When I was diagnosed with depression, I was fourteen going on fifteen. It was after I was interviewed by a professional psychologist the week after my first suicidal thought.

I can't quite remember how long has it been since me, my younger brother Anny, and my older brother Fernando, were removed from our home and were sent to foster care.

But I do remember the day when I was hurting so bad.

I sat in the walk-in closet, bawling my eyes out because I missed my life at home terribly. I had no idea why we were taken from our satisfying life with our step-mom, who I call my mom, our dad, and our one year old baby sister Elizabeth. I felt lost, pained, and in need of someone who I love.
Our foster parents were nice and all, I still love them to this day, but we three barely knew them. I needed my brothers, my only two family I had now that we couldn't contact our parents at all. I needed their love, their comfort, at least a laugh that will take this pain away. Or a hug that could squeeze all of the unwanted feelings out.
I was in desperate need of them. So with tears on my eyes, I got out of the closet and walk into the room they were in.

"Guys?" I cried out, hoping they will ask me what's wrong or something like that. But I put my hopes up way too high. Anny pushed me out of the door, repeating the word "out" over and over and closed the door before turning the lock.

I was crushed. I was hurt. I was alone. I was nothing to them. They always left me out anyways. Even way before my dad was accused of child neglect, they would always leave me out.

It hurt. I cried even more. I sat on the bed I slept in and looked out the window.
"They don't want you. Why would they? You're just an ugly girl who no one can stand to be around. Even your brothers don't want you. They just want you out of their lives. So do them a favor and get yourself out of their lives so they can finally be happy." These words echoed through my head as I gave in. I looked up at the sky and began to beg God to forgive me for throwing away such a precious gift called life.

My head wanted my death to be fast. I thought inhaling a can of febreeze I saw under the bathroom sink would do the trick. So I got up and walked to the bathroom.

It was locked.

The next day, I reported the incident to my therapist and the rest is history.

Fifteen months later, we were returned to our family. But not only I came back with a smile on my face, I came back with antidepressants.

Soon, things started to get very complicated. Senior year was more stressful than junior year. Having so much pressure coming from the desire of graduation. And my family wasn't much help at all. At that time, my description antidepressants were 50 gram.

I was under so much stress and misery. My antidepressants weren't working at their rate but I didn't know that. Which it caused me to have another breaking point. In other words, suicidal thoughts.

I've been crying for over an hour already and I couldn't get numb for some reason. It was as if life wanted me to suffer. Finally, I had enough and grabbed a pencil and some paper and began to write.

But then my cat saved me with just a stare. I looked into her unblinking eyes as she looked into mine. That's when reality hit me. I began to cry as I asked myself who is Patches going to cuddle at night? Who is going to know her favorite scratching spots whenever she wants to be petted? Who's she going to bond with?

Then my wonderful friends came into mind. Who is going to fill in the empty gap between the six of us if I'm gone? Who's going to be the one who laughs very loud and is weird in many levels? Who is going to sit on the sixth lunch table with them?

No one but me.

The next two days, I think, I snuck into a computer lobby inside the apartment complex office and sent this message to my best friend on deviant art.

~*~
midnightdragon**** said the following:

Please forgive me if you get disappointed in me but I need to get this off my chest by telling this to someone I trust.
I almost attempted suicide Thursday night. Anny made me breakdown and I cried for hours. My mom took away my phone a long time ago so I couldn't call you.
This is the note I wrote before I ripped it in half:
9:17 pm Sep/8/2016
I love you all.
Take care of my baby, please.
I'm so sorry I was never strong but I can't stand this pain anymore. It really hurts having this feeling of guilt and lonelyness.
To my best friend, Holly:
I love you so much, sis. Thanks for your efforts to save me from this hell.
To my best friends, Olivia, Abril, Irene and Abigail:
Your friendship helped me believe that family love and support exists.
To my baby girl, Patches:
I love you, baby. You're so beautiful and thank you for the best memories ever.
To my baby sister, Elizabeth:
You will always be my sunshine. I love you, my Twilight Sparkle.
To the love of my life, Jonathan:
I love you so much. Forever and always.
To Ms. Nelda:
Thank you for listening to my useless rants.

Take good care of my baby, please. Take care of Blue Whisper for me too. And return my library books for me as well.
I want to be burned and forgotten. It hurts too much. Tell my awesome brother Anny that it was never his fault. Tell my bro Fernando to keep on kicking life's ass and laugh at it. I have always admired him for that.
Tell my mommy, Angeles that I love her more every time she helped me with my spanish.
Tell my papá that he never failed me. I was the one who did.
Tell my buddy, Cristofer I got him the mocking bird. The song goes:
"Hush little baby don't say a word,
------'s gonna catch you a mocking bird.
And if that mocking bird won't sing,
------'s gonna buy you a diamond ring."
God may never forgive me for this and if I end up stuck in limbo, I deserve it.
I love you all.

Luckily, Patches saved me. I'm alive because of her. Don't worry about me, dude. I'll keep on going for you.

~*~

More life experiences will come in the next chapter.