I feel like I should talk about the time I tried to get help.
I was 17.
I was living in Bedford.
I had been cutting myself for a couple of years.
I also liked to drink, smoke stuff, and take acid.
I had recently realized that I liked taking things up my nose.
But it was only speed, mesc, or acid.

I thought about suicide alot.
But I didn't want to kill myself.
I hated people that killed themselves.
I thought it was so selfish.
No matter what they believed themselves,
Somebody loved them.
So in ending their pain, they hurt someone else.
And I hated that.

But then I understood.
I realized that only certain people will ever understand the kind of things I've gone through.
If you've never actually felt it, you can only understand to a certain degree.
I found my way to a doctor.
Because I was 17, they wouldn't let me see a doctor for adults.
I saw a consellor.
She showed me pictures of freaky children, socially, and
Talked to me about self-esteem.

Sure, I had terrible self-esteem.
Who didn't in the 90's?
I still do to some degree.
But I've accepted me.
There are things I don't like.
But they are a part of me.