Confession Central

I find it incredibly strange that one individual person can make such an enormous impact in your life. It doesn't always depend on how long they have been in your life. It could be days or weeks, or maybe even a few hours. Some of us do not even realize the impact we have on another persons life. 

There have been a few instances where one of my closest friends didn't want to live another day. Yes, she wanted to commit  suicide. I bet you are saying how selfish of her. But really, you do not understand how it feels until you are in that position. I went to hell and back with her; from her stealing triple c's and tripping for endless hours, cutting herself till it bled through her shirts, to multiple attempts at suicide. 

She recently told me how much of a difference I had made, just by being there, whether in person or through the phone. By talking her out of it and making her realize that there was so much to live for.

I never really understood how someone could want to end their life...until about two years ago.

Have you ever contemplated death?  Even a little bit?

I have had so many family deaths in my life that death isn't something I am scared of at this point in my life. I even welcome it. 

Sadistic some may say, but in truth, I can't handle too much more of the shit that life has thrown at me. I'm getting pretty tired of it. 

Now...if anyone is even reading this pointless secret blog of mine. Hopefully, you don't know who I am. Just some anonymous girl ranting over the internet about her woes in life. Well here is a brief synopsis of my life..keep in mind...I am only 20.

My uncle was brutally murdered 10 years ago.
My grandfather died of leukemia. 
My dad has leukemia.
My grandmother had breast cancer.
I totaled my car horrifically my senior year.
I can rant about the health of my family but that would take hours...long story short I am genetically screwed.

Oh yeah and back in January, I was officially diagnosed with anorexia, depression, anxiety, and obsessive compulsive disorder.

Basically I am a hot mess. 

Before all of this was typed into my medical history... I had attempted suicide a few times. None successful. It scared me a little how close I got to ending it. My mom found out however, and flushed all of my Vicodin down the toilet. 

But my poor sob story isn't the real point of this post. My friends, although I still refuse to see it from their perspective, wanted me to live. So they talked me out of killing myself.
That doesn't mean that I don't envision ways to die every day. Or wonder what would be the least painful, clean way to croak.

That is...until I met Ethan. He's now my ex. But during the short time we were together, I had never been happier. I never had a "bad thought" or thought of myself as obese and repulsive. He made me feel good about myself. I loved feeling the way I did around him.

But now that we aren't together anymore, I find myself constantly searching for that emotional bond and feeling again..

Needless to say...I'm failing so far.