This time last year, my hair was down to my waist.
This time last year, I was 16 and in grade 11.
This time last year, I had a lot of "friends" I guess I was popular.
This time last year, I had a game plan, I thought I was going to be a Graphic Designer.
But this time last year was the first time I tried to **** myself.
Yes, to a lot of people this seems over dramatic, because "what 16 has anything to 'die over'", that's what my dad said anyways.
But I'm glad there are people whom are so naive when it comes to Depression.
I'm glad most people don't understand why I want to die.
I'm glad my little brother doesn't think the answer to "should I live?" is "no"
I'm glad my grandparents are concerned when I'm home alone.
I'm glad my mom gets worried when I don't answer my phone.
I'm glad my dad is scared when I'm not home by 4:30.

Seven months ago, I was put on Anti-Depressants.
Eight months ago, I finally told my parents how bad I was getting.
Ten months ago, I realized this probably isn't normal.
This time last year, I almost lost my battle to a bottle of pills,
And at this point if you were to ask how many suicide notes I had written, I would ask you to define.
Would you like to know how many separate notes I have complied into a binder, or how many notes I've left out for my parents to find after I've left the house?
At this point I can say I've had more attempts to end my life than I've had hours happy, but at least I can say I'm Still Trying.