Trigger Warning: This article deals with intense feelings of depression and thoughts of suicide.
I was twelve and it was the last day of summer vacation. I was lying in my daybed looking across the hallway at my mom – she was peacefully lying in her bed, sleeping, as I should be.
I felt my skin crawl – tiny little tormenting bugs were scurrying under my skin, sending chills up my spine, venturing into the depths of my wellness and content. Nothing was the same after that night. I woke up with uncontrollable thoughts that teased me and told me to do things I could not even fathom. This voice told me that killing myself would be the only thing that could save me from myself – this self that seemed so external but was somehow intertwined and tangled into who I had thought I was… who I knew I…
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