And I am not sure how to do this.. it's painful for me to write it down and impossible for me to talk about.. so I'll start off telling what I can.. I've been suicidal for very long, as well depressed. Yet in this state I feel as my real self. When I'm "happy" I feel completely lost and don't know who I am. This depression has become my reality and my state and divided me into two personas, due to emotional problems I don't think I could go into even if I wanted to. About a year ago I tried to overdose (original..) and I really thought I'd die.. I was scared, and the anxiety was completely drowning me. Then I woke up next morning feeling very very ill. Knowing that I hadn't taken enough pills. I went to school as usual put on my "face" for everyone to see and never spoke of it. Then came the summer holidays.. It was terrible, but yet it couldn't compare to the previous year where my obsession with a alter ego was obsessing my mind and I spent time painting out my world, singing it, which I had begun already 2008, but it was later that it really started to form out. But it hadn't become reality yet. It did become reality 2010. When I couldn't handle the emotions of hate, or was to overwhelmed by my feelings I became someone else. The horrible thing is that when I'm in that state I know that it's the true me, that I'll always be haunted by this, yet it's better, for now at least. I stood there with a tie around my neck many times, nearly suffocating myself, the most memorable dates for me 15th november 2010 and 28th january 2011. The last mentioned date I ended up lying on the bathroom floor for hours. My parents thought I were dead at first. I had only weeks before confided in my friends whom I stupidly enough trusted to respect my decision in telling them I had decided I was to going to kill myself. I am still ashamed and regretful I shared it with them. I truly believed they were going to accept it without calling teachers on me, that's about how absorbed I was in my world of meaningless. Meaningless.. that's where it comes from really, this "real" me. Because when I reached that point, all I could find meaning in expressing myself through art telling my story and that's where "she" came from. On june 5th, my birthday<, edit moderator total eclipse method> I don't know for how long I lay there, for me it felt really long with the thoughts of death (but it couldn't have been long at all) and waiting for it circling all around in my head. I became drowsy, and couldn't breathe. That was when I awoke, perhaps you could say, and ripped bag of my head. Later my brother (the one who actually got help of us when he was extremely depressed, now unfortunately he has been diagnosed with ADD, but I was never even noticed when I was so down I couldn't move let alone speak all I got then was that my "mother" couldn't handle me and that I was going to a foster home) called to congratulate me (the only one) and I couldn't pick up. I just couldn't. And I continued as usual to this day. No one knows about this. Not even those who read this. There is so much more to the story, but those are the things I can't handle telling, so art does it for me. And the reason why I'm writing this down now, is because recently I've been feeling a lot better. But then came the realization why I went into isolating myself so many years ago which only resulted in this. Hate. I had forgotten, tried to how I wanted to slit her throat, literally having to compose myself not to grab the steering wheel and pull us both off the road. Because today there it was again (and no I'm absolutely not claiming this to be the only reason because things have turned out as they have for me, as I said there is so much more to it) there is no reasoning with her when anger consumes her. And I'm not talking about myself, but the creature I am shameful to call my mother. When she's like this, she goes into a certain state (not unlike myself) and screams and can't accept anything said against her even how silly her argument might be. And the silliest things can't get her like this too. Today it was that I couldn't fit all the stuff that I was supposed to get into the attic. This was obviously my fault among all other things she screamed about. She has always been like this (and I'm not the only one who can't handle her when she's like this, my brother feels the same way, and so does my "father"). And today was my wake up call and reminder why I never leave my room. I got terribly emotional about this, because in recovering from so much I've been going through this was not what I needed. Something to trigger it all again. I even thought I'd put a <edit moderator total eclipse method> over my head again ( like so many other nights) I just can't take this anymore. I have to leave, get away and live my own life and see if I can fix this. This is definitely not helping and I don't know what to do. I at least feel a bit better now that I've told some parts of the story. Problem is, I can't afford an apartment, my parents are definitely not gonna finance it. I'm just a studying student with no money. Yet I feel that I make this sound much more terrible than it is, now that I've stopped crying and am not overly emotional, because of how lucky I really am. I've gotten a life with so much opportunities, and I can chose whoever I want to be. Then why do I don't want to live.