It's easy for me to feel forgotten, lost, and alone. I've accepted that I'll feel like that until I move out, but until then I have to deal with my parents. It's not like their mean to me, or my brothers, but I get annoyed very easily and it goes down hill from there.

     I try telling my parents what's wrong with me, but if it's physical they brush it off saying that I'm just complaining, and if it's mental I freeze up and can't bring myself to talk. I know that if I don't talk it out with them, then nothing will get accomplished, but I'm petrified that they're gonna do something to me so I just keep my mouth shut.

     I retreat back to the handful of people who know almost everything about me, and confine myself in them. But I'm getting to the point where just talking about my problems sends me into a panic attack, I've stopped talking to them about it now. I was almost at a year of not cutting, then I fucked it up a few weeks ago, and have been trying not to add to the scars on my wrist since then.

     I got into a really bad depression attack a few days ago, and was able to be talked out of cutting by a girl from one of my homeschool groups. But she left for a camp today, and won't be able to talk for a few days, so I'm trying not to slit my wrists before I leave for a wedding in the morning.

     I'm on the verge of killing myself, but I'm holding on for three people. I've pondered what would happen if I ended it all, and it all points to one of said three people killing themselves too. I'm trying to be that ray of sunshine everyone thinks I am, but behind closed doors I'm a depressed mess.

     I don't want to die, I'm not sure I'm ready. I know irl I joke about it all the time, but I truly don't know why I do. As of writing this, I left my depression attack, so I'm not sure where I'm going with this anymore. I'll leave it as this for now, and if I need anything else then I'll continue writing.

-Ash 2/28/20