I have depression problems. I have tried to kill myself more than ten times, but it never worked. I never have been able to handle my problems correctly. I have tried almost everything to ease the pain. I have resorted to cutting so much that it became an addiction.
 
For about a year, I was constantly drugged up. I was strongly addicted to overdosing on pills. That year was the longest year of my life, but I hardly remember any of it. I know that I said things to people that I shouldn't have said. I know I acted terribly toward people who didn't deserve to be treated that way.

I kept trying to reach out for help, but it was too hard. The few people that I told didn't believe me. They all thought I was just a desperate cry for attention, but that really wasn't the case. Finally, a little less than two years ago, I told my best friend. She said that she could tell that something was wrong, and that she had been trying to figure out what exactly was going on without asking me about it. She said that if she did ask me about it that she thought it might make me worse, and that she would never want to see me worse than I already was. From that, I knew that she really cared about me, and that was when everything really started changing. I told her about everything. She was a little disappointed, but she tried everything she could to help me. I never thought that talking to her about it could help, but it did. I realized that if I did succeed in getting rid of my pain by killing myself, I would be causing other people to have pain. That was when I decided to actually try to get better.

I am still struggling to get better, but I am not doing it alone. I have overcome the addictions of cutting and overdosing, and I no longer try to die.

-Sarah*

*name has been changed