A Suicide Wish.

The first time I tried to kill myself I was a young child. And I don't mean an adolescent. I was somewhere between the age of 4 and 8; I should have been happy. I should have been enjoying the best years of my life. But I could not. I wanted to die. First, before I knew anything about the usual methods of suicide, all I could think of was to suffocate myself. I tried tying things around my neck, putting my head in a plastic bag, squeezing my throat. Of course, nothing worked. As I got older, I got smarter. Though for a while I tried cutting, I soon realized my true passion; medicine and pathology. And so I began trying to breed bacteria in my skin. I came very close to sepsis a few times. I was caught though, and hospitalized before anything more could come of my infection. I'd been bullied before I even started school. I was terrorized by my father. My mother didn't stop him. When I started school, all the children though I was weird. They say middle school is bad, but things got better, however small that change might have been, when I reached it. These suicide thoughts continue. I've asked for help. Again and again I've been brushed off. Every once in a while I'll get together my medicine bottles, think about swallowing every pill I have. But I know, even in high doses the drugs I have will not cause lethal toxicity..at least, not quick enough. My anxiety further pulls me from the idea of overdose..With phobic disorder, I would rather die than vomit. Maybe one day I'll get up the nerve..but who knows? Maybe I'm meant to live. I suppose only time will tell. Time, and my own will.