Alot of the time i find myself not wanting to be alive. More times than any sane person would consider normal when you have depression.
The first time i can remember feeling like life just wasnt for me was when i was about 12 probably. I use to pray i wouldnt wake up in the morning. I would pray so i hard i would cry. I would literally beg God to take me in the night. I couldnt imagine having the courage to do it myself. I didnt like life most of the time. I still dont. Being an adult sucks. Sure, i have my days and my moments where i like being alive, things are good. I wish i had more of those days. More of those days would be nice so i could really enjoy my time on this earth.
After my overdose i started to think more and more that i should be greatful and happy that i was alive. Part of me does want to live, i truly do. I always tell myself life is similar to a roller coaster, you peak and have great days and you plummet and have really bad days. You just have to stay on the ride waiting for those wonderful peaks. But then there are those days that i tell myself something completely different all together. Those are the days i wish i could have left this earth with my grandmother. When she was alive every time i would sink low i would tell myself that i couldnt possibly take myself from this earth…what would that do to her? Well it would have killed her, thats what. And i couldnt possibly be the cause of that much pain to someone i loved so much. Someone who tried everything and would do anything to make me feel better when i would call her upset and hating myself. Now she is gone. What now? Surely there must be people in my life that would hurt if i took my own life. Yes, there are people and yes, im sure i would cause pain if i left. The thing is, there really arent that many. There is only one in my life that i am with everyday and talk to everyday, my boyfriend. I feel like i already disappoint him all the time and never do much of anything right. I hardly talk to the rest of my family. I feel like most people just dont see me. And the ones that do see me, dont understand me.
I know that depression is one of the reasons i could never be a casual drug user. That first hit just wasnt for fun, i had found something that soothed my soul. I had finally found a new friend. A friend that took away the pain, physically and emotionally. This friend understood me. It got me. Heroin was always there. When i had no one to talk to heroin listened. When i was happy heroin celebrated with me. When i was horribly depressed heroin gave me a hug. When i wanted to get something done heroin was there to cheer me on. Heroin was with me for every moment for years. It literally became a part of me.
However, this great savior was a judas. Heroin didnt fix my problems. It made them worse. It has made me worse. I have wasted a large portion of my life. I have never worked at actually fixing my problems, i just covered them up. How do you dig yourself out of a mountain like that? Where do you even begin? I still find myself a sad girl, not knowing what the hell to do, who feels alone most days.