The time is 2:42... let’s tell a story that normally happens around this time.
This story does not have a definite start
Because most stories like this don’t, some do, but not all. And that’s okay
At the time I was early 11ish
And to be honest — I thought it was normal. Hell, I don’t really know how long it had been going on but it felt normal
And so when it slowly worsened it felt normal. Plus, I thought I deserved it.
11 years old wasn’t easy for me. I was starting to understand the things I saw when I was younger. Extreme poverty, starvation, overpopulation
I understood that what I saw wasn’t normal
And I thought I deserved to feel the pain I felt for those people and the guilt I felt for not being capable of being empathetic enough.
It felt normal
The thoughts.
The thoughts that made me memorize how to take the screen off my window
The thoughts that told me bad things about myself
The thoughts that told me to jump out my window
I thought they were normal
But I didn’t have the guts nor the motivation at the time
But she 12 I thought of something that “wasn’t as bad”
TRIGGER WARNING:
So I managed to get the blade out of my pencil sharpener and I made due.
I had tried scratching at myself before but it didn’t feel like enough
The scar from the scratching is still on my stomach 
I felt hopeless
By this time I was 12 and felt the urge to self harm every day
Thinking back, I never once truly regretted it
I do now
As I turned from 12 to 13 and became an official teenager I cried myself to sleep more and more often
Then I found out we were moving
I knew one thing and that is that Kansas is my home and I sure as hell ain’t leaving it
So I decided that I wouldn’t
And so I made the plan to jump out my window and fall 3 stories onto a slab of concrete in the middle of the nighr
I remember may 7th taking a bath and cutting for what felt like it’d be the last time
So I did it deeper than I had before and it wasn’t as deep compared to the future but I was 13 and it felt deeper
And then my parents came in
I had just finished getting dressed and my parents were frantically knocking on my door
They sat me down and said that a friend I couldn’t help but say goodbye to told her mom who, in turn, told them
It saved my life
I was hospitalized
I moved
On the second day of driving we passed through Orlando the day after the pulse shooting
As an LGBT kid I was terrified
I didn’t want my life to be shootings and dying in a place I deemed safe
But I had to keep going on
Then things went smoothly for a while, I turned 14, but I still self harmed almost every night
Then, on May 24th, 2017, I realized something:
I could do it
STOP: if you are thinking of killing yourself call 911 IMMEDIATELY this is an emergency and they can help get you resources
So I tried
After two handfuls of pills and a slit down my arm I laid down to die
But not before saying goodbye to my dear friend
And she saved my life once again
And I was hospitalized again
I got out and still self harmed regularly but made it by 8th grade and into 9th
Then Valentine’s Day happened
And there was a spark in me that said “no”
“We’re not doing this shitfest again”
“I’m gonna fucking make it”
And so I tried my best but that faded and I lost hope again
But then and idea sparked
And who would have thought that all it would take is an idea to spark an nonprofit and a fire in me that I haven’t seen in 4 years
I’ve met some of the greatest, strongest people I have ever met on this journey
But I want my depression to stop
And today, April 15th, 2018 I’ve decided: This is the end, depression. Goodbye, I hope I’ll never succumb to you again
So, May 24ths have become April 15ths
And I’m tellin’ ya
I’m gonna fucking make it
Thank you Ally, for saving my life.
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