Well, my mother died when I was 10 yrs old. I spent my 10th B-day with her while she was in the hospital. I went home May 1st because I had to get back to school and May 2nd my dad came to school and told me... mommy died.
I was so much happier when my mom was alive. When my mom was alive we use to do things together. I'd lay with her until we both fell asleep. Then, when dad was ready for bed he would carry me and lay me in my bed. After mom's death dad started to drink more and more and Lee (my bro) started to smoke weed a lot more. I was so unhappy. I started to cut myself and I actually was immune to the pain. I would do it about 2 an hour.
My friends always told me I was depressed but I was Me- and I didn't get depressed. It wasn’t until I moved in with my aunt that I got put on medication for severe depression. My therapist, Robin- she was always there for me. Don't get me wrong... Annie, my counselor, was too, but Robin seemed to understand a little more. I read a poem called Daddy, Don't Go
by Stacey P. Wilson. It really helped me to know it was my momma's time to go and I could not change that.
Well, now I am in foster care with some of the nicest people and I really regret ever hurting myself. Life wasn't worth that pain. Now, I try to remember the good times and don't moan on the sad. If I feel down... I talk to my foster mom- she is always there for me.
Life is too short to want to die. Look at the bright side of stuff. Death isn't worth much- just to burn in hell forever... when you could go to heaven. But it's your choice. That is my advice!!!