In the sixth grade, I felt more miserable than I ever had before. Every night, I laid in my bed and sobbed until I couldn't cry any longer. I thought of how worthless I was, I hated everything I used to do, I was extremely suicidal. One night, I had a panic attack in my mother's arms and she called the counselor. At the office, I admitted to wanting to harm myself. Everything was sort of a blur, but eventually two officers came in and sat me down, telling me how they were to evaluate me. I don't know why, but it was too difficult to tell them the truth. So, I lied. I said I was fine most of the time, that I never felt like ending my life. Even during the private evaluation, I couldn't tell the truth. So, I got put on "low risk".
My parents didn't really take how I felt seriously, I went to a therapist but I never told her how I felt, I was too scared and I didn't know why. So, we stopped seeing her. I started to self-harm on and off after that. I sleep all day and my grades dropped through the floor, I hardly shower or take proper care of myself, I can't even feel sad anymore. I can't find a happy moment in my life and I don't know how to feel anymore. I'm not sad, hell, I don't even know if I'm depressed anymore. I'm just a shell of what I used to be, nothing makes me laugh, cry, or genuinely angry. There have been some moments where I felt a genuine emotion, but I can't remember when. The guilt is eating away at me, knowing that I wouldn't have burdened myself if I just told the truth. But now we're in lockdown, I know there's online therapists but they never really do the trick on me. I can't tell my parents because I know they'd be financially burdened by me, paying for therapy and medication that doesn't work. I have no sense of time or place, I just feel like I'm floating through life. Although I can't ever say it out loud. All my friends are looking for colleges now and I don't know what I want to do with my life, I wanted to be a writer but I can't even find the motivation to do that. I'm still a minor and where I live, I can't have therapy in secret. So I find myself thinking, it would be better to end it all. I'm just an empty husk of what I used to be and I have nothing more to contribute to the world, but I want to try and continue living, try and convince myself everything would be fine although I can't find a reason to, Thank god this is anonymous, I couldn't ever say this to anyone else.