SamanthaDarling

I know people won't read this. But if you do, you will understand me.
I think the main thing that kept me from killing myself back in March was knowing that my family couldn’t take any more pain. Or maybe I just didn’t truly want to die. I’v been thinking about it a lot lately. I know I was hurting so bad, and I was so depressed, but maybe a part of me knew that it was only temporary. Maybe I knew I would be okay eventually. Maybe I was just too scared to do it. The times I’v cut, that took a lot of bravery. You might be like “wow Samantha, I bet the only reason you cut is cus you just wanted attention” or something. If I wanted attention, I would have flaunted those cuts, I would have cut deeper and more. I don’t know why I cut. People ask me. I just don’t know. I just did it. I mean. I know why. But I don’t know why I thought cutting would help. It wasn’t an “addiction” and I didn’t feel the need to constantly do it. I guess sometimes I just needed proof I could still feel, because I was so numb at the time. So the cuts showed me that there was still feeling, a part of me was still there. It’s a scary feeling. Feeling that numb. Walking down the hall and just not hearing what people would say. It was just like this white noise kinda thing. It was scary. Walking through a hospital full of people, and just not knowing where to go, who they were, why your mom had to go through Cancer. I’m not blaming the cutting on my mom, in any way. You know when you’re playing janga, the game when you stack the blocks and pull out one by one and try to not let the tower fall? It’s like that. With every block pulled, you lose a little more stabability. Block by block, my life began to shake, tip, and quiver. And it was like, mom getting cancer, not knowing if she was gunna live, was the last block. The tower (my life) crashes down, all at once, ya know? It just, boom. Falls. That’s what it was like. It all just crashed, fell, crumbled. It was scary. So scary. All of it. I used to know every date of everything that first happened when she got sick. And it was like, as the depression grew deeper, I forgot. I just forgot what happened when. I think it was a good thing that I forgot though. Not holding on so tight to the beginning of it. Letting go so the new beginning could start. If that makes any since at all. I think that as my mom started to get better, so slowly, I started to see light again. I let my friends back in my life. School started to matter more. Things went back to normal. I built the blocks up, one by one. I am still building. There are some blocks that can’t ever be put back. So i’ll always be a little but wobbly, but that’s normal. Everybody has there times. We deserve to have our times. 
We are so far from perfect, that’s why it’s okay.