Hello, I'm new here. I suffer from anxiety and manic depression, and lately, this has been exacerbated by something of which I just don't allow myself to speak. I need to get this out, to tell it to anyone. This is a long story, but I'll try to make it as short as I can without cutting corners. If you don't wish to read anymore, by all means, stop here. My freshman year, after years of medication and therapy, and even a stay at a mental ward, I had been left a mere shell of a human. I had quite literally no friends. I didn't know a single person outside of my family; and even then, I couldn't really say I knew my family. No one even knew my name; I never spoke. I never smiled; and, looking back, I'm not sure I really knew how to smile at that point in my life. I was there, but I wasn't alive. I soon met, or rather, was bothered by a girl in my class. She would always talk to me at lunch, and all I could think is "What the hell does she want from me? What could she possibly stand to gain by speaking to me?" This continued for weeks: she would talk to me at lunch, I would do less than politely nod to acknowledge her. One day, she literally dragged me over to the table her friends were sitting at. Anyway, I'll skip the details here, it hardly matters. I slowly opened up and eventually even spoke and laughed, although still only rarely. Over the summer, I became good friends with a girl whom I will refer to as M. She was almost my age, 14 at the time. I was 15. Her and I would hang out on occasion, mostly just talking and telling jokes for hours on end. We began instant messaging each other into the late hours of the morning every night, talking about anything that came to mind. One night, in the delirious hours of the early morning, I told her I wanted to kiss her. This was a shock to me, as I'd never had so much as a date, and I hadn't intended to start that summer. She confided that she had a thing for me, and had liked me for quite some time. She had even so much as admired me during those dull lunch periods before I had been pestered by her friend to sit with them and talk. I was nothing short of amazed. How a beautiful outgoing girl like M could like me was beyond my wildest imaginations. We continued to stay casual friends. We almost pretended we had never said those things. One night, she told me she was seeing someone. An older woman, in her early twenties. Being bisexual, I completely understood, even if the age difference between them was more than a little shocking. Time passed, little happened outside of casual flirting. Then New Year's Eve came. In only a few hours it would be 2008. M and I got together to celebrate. We stayed outside to enjoy the pretty December snow. As we walked, I tripped over a rock under the snow and hurt my already bad back. She immediately knelt over me, worried that I may have gotten hurt. When I said I was fine, she bent over and kissed me. My head swam. My first kiss had been on New Year's Eve, in the middle of a field of snow, under the stars, and with a beautiful girl, no less. From then on, we were never quite just friends. She never really mentioned that woman again, and when I asked about it, she said it hadn't worked out. We didn't date until March. I asked her out officially on March 11, 2008 at around 1pm, during lunch, where we had met. She said yes, and I had never seen her act so innocent or young until that day. She had blushed. She never blushed. We saw a movie that weekend and made out on the couch when we got back to my house. It was nice, being a real teenager. In April, a week or so before my birthday, she stopped answering my calls. When I managed to get to her, she would bail on any plans we made. I became detached and alone again. I broke up with her shortly after she bailed on both seeing me on my birthday and seeing me the day after my birthday because she had missed it. During May, I never went to school. I began throwing up constantly. My vision got bad. My muscles withered and my bones locked up often. I felt like an old man. The doctor thought it was a brain tumor, which runs in the family, but that was soon ruled out. It came around to stress, plain and simple. My mind was simply too sick to pay any attention to my body, and I was paying for it with aches and pains. I was put on new medications and finally got back to school in early June. M would hardly look at me. She wasn't laughing like she always used to be. In July, we started talking again. She walked across town to my house in a summer thunderstorm. She was soaked by the time she got there. I held her on the couch where we had so often kissed, and soon we again had our mouths entangled. We vowed to make it work. She said the official status of our relationship had scared her. I decided to keep it casual for her sake. In August, I began doing drugs. Xanax to be specific. I would black out. I'd forget days at a time. She used my computer to talk to her supposed ex-girlfriend about how high I was when she surprised me with a visit. The next month I stumbled across the conversation. They had been dating since early 2007 and had not broken up at any point. I was furious, and I was suicidal. In early October, I attempted suicide. I sliced my wrists to ribbons. I was taken to the hospital and I came home less than a week later. M couldn't look at me anymore. The suicide attempt scared the hell out of her. Later that month, she moved to Illinois. I then told her that I knew about her and her girlfriend. She called me a fool. I called her a *****. We didn't talk for months. I spiraled into depression and started using drugs every day. I still don't really remember a thing from the month of November that year. New Year's Eve, a year after our first kiss, I attempted suicide a second time. This time, I used Xanax. I took more than a lethal dose. It didn't kill me because I had built up a tolerance from the drug abuse. That summer, she came back to Wisconsin for a party. I attended, not knowing she was going to be there. We avoided each other. I borrowed some cigarettes from a friend at the party and started smoking, a habit I still have. I sneaked into my friend's parents' alcohol cabinet and got drunk. M cried. I stumbled home without a parting word to anyone. A month later, she sent me an email. She apologized for lying to me. She also led me on again. We began talking. We flirted. A week later, she told me she was still dating that woman. I was hit hard, but not really shocked. In August, she came to visit me. She took the train. We spent the day together. She held my hand all day. At the train station, we kissed too passionately to be appropriate, even between great friends who hadn't spoken in almost a year. She broke up with that woman. Two months later, I asked her out. She said, quite simply, no. Our communication slowed. Last month, we socialized at a party and reconnected. She got drunk the next night and called me. She said she was in love with me and that she wanted to date me but couldn't. I tried not to take the words of a drunk girl to heart. That didn't work. This weekend, she's coming to visit again. We still flirt, and we're both single. I'm afraid of what may happen. I don't want to get close again just to be pushed away again. But I'm so hopelessly in love with her. I don't know what to do. My suicidal thoughts have become more frequent and more insistent throughout this week. Last night, I actually searched for quick, easy ways to go about it. Can anyone help me?