Warning-This poem contains themes of suicide, self harm, and depression.

My first depressive episode was last May.
My friend was on the phone with my boyfriend, and I worried he wouldn't date me for much longer.
I didn't even like boys,
I just wanted to feel loved.
I sat in the rain and thought about killing myself.
"What is happening to me?" I asked myself.
Maybe it was jealousy,
Maybe it was my period.
But I knew there was something wrong.

I had another depressive episode in August.
I couldn't stop thinking about self harm and suicide.
I tried to enjoy my vacation in Washington at my grandma's house,
but it was hard to enjoy while I was silently suffering.
I relapsed on self harm after that.

It happened again in November.
I filed a suicide report on myself at school.
Even though I had a school play that day, and a vacation later in the week, I couldn't bring myself to want to live.
I was pulled into the counselor's office at school and got sent home.
I cried on the couch when I got back home.

Again in December.
I was used to this by now.
I banged my head on my bedframe because I so desperately wanted to punish myself.
I was stuck in flashbacks of my trauma.
"If this is my life," I'd tell myself,
"then I don't want to be here anymore."
I cut myself on the train tracks and visualized myself getting hit by a train.
What made it worse was being cheated on.

The worst of my depression was in February.
I was hospitalized on Valentine's Day.
I had a plan to run in front of a train on the 15th,
and I had to sleep on my parents' floor so I wouldn't hurt myself
until I was admitted to a residential treatment center.

Now, I'm on better medications to help with my depressive episodes.
I'm still not perfect,
and not necessarily thriving or doing well,
but I'm doing better.
Thankfully.