I had a boyfriend who was the sweetest, most beautiful person I had ever met. I knew(or know now) he wasn't a good person because he had serious issues with his family (though they were a well-off, white, middle-class family, they had their hidden drama), but I stuck with him because he was manipulatively sweet. (note: I am really stupid when it comes to dating) I was 22 and he was 19 and we dated for six months before I realized how awful his drinking had gotten and I was fed up with him being an asshole. He would go back and forth being incredibly sweet to calling me a stupid *****/fat/I should go throw up everything I've eaten because I'm so fucking disgusting no one will ever love me etc. I tried to bring this up and (since he had consumed an entire bottle of soco) he hit me. He then proceeded to sit outside my house, piss in my window, and try to set my porch on fire. I got a restraining order, but after five months of not talking to him, I felt bad and started talking to him again, as I knew he had issues with depression and impulsivity and anger and I wanted to help him get better, not abandon him like a lot of his friends did. (and because I'm fucking stupid) He came over one day, severely drunk, and started a fight with me over a sweatshirt. He punched me in the face and slammed my head into the ground until I could grab my phone and dial 911. To this day, I regret it, but I called the police on him. He resisted arrest and assaulted the officer and ended up on an ankle bracelet/breathalyzer/weekly UA. He then spent two months getting more and more depressed (he had previously smoked and drank very frequently) and abruptly/angrily cutting off everyone he knew. Stopped going to school, started fights to end his friendships, his mom bought him a kitten...he got more and more depressed. He threatened suicide occasionally, but one night (12/09/10) he sent me a text with a picture of him hanging himself that said, "I will haunt you forever." My friends told me not to believe his bullshit and that he would never do it, so I ignored it. I didn't know until the next day when the police came to my door demanding my phone and wanted to know what I knew about it because I was the last person he had contacted. He was 19. I went to his funeral and no one talked to me. I got the dirtiest looks from all of his family and friends. I came home, downed six shots in ten minutes and proceeded to vomit off my friend's balcony. His mom had the police call me three times to try to get anything of his that I may have had (I had nothing of his), and his dad had them interview me a month later saying "he would be in contact." (he never was) I still don't know where his grave is. I started dating my friend (the one whose balcony I had puked off of), on February 14, 2011. (He was basically like, "I'm gonna date this girl even though her boyfriend just died")(again, bad choice on my part) Four days later, my dad called me and said he needed to come tell me something. My heart dropped and immediately thought of my mom. She had had a stroke three years earlier and was really worried about having another one. When he got there, he just said, "Your mom is dead." "how?" "She blew her brains out." I remember so vividly the exact moment, I was in the middle of mopping our apartment and just stopped and laid in bed crying for a few days. Four months later, I had a crazy outburst (while wasted) and broke some windows and kicked my boyfriend in the neck and screamed at him because he was an asshole and I was upset because my mom died. There's no excuse for my actions, but I paid for them in court costs, lawyer fees, and 6 months of anger management. (for the record, I passed the anger management with 100% and they told me I seemed okay). I'm an only child and my parents separated when I was six (hence the abrupt notification from my dad), and though my mom had many siblings, I was sole inheritor of her estate. I'm financially set for at least a few years, inherited her house (paid off the mortgages, where a lot of the life insurance money went). Her estate took 19 months to close and now I have a house that is falling apart and don't want. It's the house I grew up in, a block away from my high school, four blocks from my mom's grave, and the town I never ever wanted to have to go back to. I live here now because I don't have to pay rent. Then last year, my ex, whom I had dated right when my mom died, passed away in a car accident. He was drunk and injured three other people (killed himself). And when I went to that funeral, his parents wouldn't even look me in the eye. A lot of his friends won't talk to me because they knew we fought a lot. So there's probably a lot missing from this, but it feels okay to get it out. It's a hard story to tell people in person. I'm still not over any of them and knowing people who have killed themselves makes suicide so much more tangible and possible and seem so easy.