I have depression. I cannot say that I've had it forever because I actually remember a time in my life when I was happy.

Though I do not want to go into specifics, traumatic event after another I became a recluse. I always stayed in my room watching TV. I would often try to look at cable porn on channel 99 late nights. However, I would always daydream and talk to myself as if another person was in the room. Those illusions were the only friends I had. I failed 3rd and 4th grade though my parents refused make me repeat a grade. I became grossly overweight.

Moving every 3-4 years (military) didn't help. As I got older, I got more friends, but the depression never went away. As soon as I was introduced to the internet, I became addicted to it–and also the Backstreet Boys. Either I was having sex with a predator online or talking with other obessed fans about who's the hotter BSB member. I would always then go into my room and daydream about Brian the BSB member. He symbolized a happy life for me– I guess that's why it took me forever to get over him.

All awhile, my parents were unfazed by all of this. They were either apathetic about my situation or they were disgusted by it. I often would remember my mother talking about me behind my back essentially saying that she was ashamed of me while worshiping my older and only brother. My brother never had any problems; he was more successful; therefore he's more loveable. Yet I still love my mother more than anything else. I guess you can compare us to the Barone brothers (Everybody Loves Raymond). My father used ot be my favorite, and then suddenly I just started to hate him. He's condescening and self-absorbed. He has no self-awareness; the only socialization he gets theses days is on the internet. I also know he's cheated on my mom with a hooker in Europe (though he doesn't know I KNOW) he is always on the fucking internet talking to females my age. If he got caught on Dateline NBC, I would not be surprised. He is a total disappointment. Sometimes I felt my parents let me down by just not caring enough.

I started getting counseling since I was 16 and it has done NOTHING for me. My first counselor pushed me to take meds essentially saying that she's seen worse cases than mine so I shouldn't get all depressive about it. My second one talked about how I should lose weight so I can be happy and explained diet programs to my mother and I ON THE FIRST DAY and told me I had depression based on a fucking pamplet quiz. I went to a mental hospital and that was hell, but I can honestly say it's been helpful. My last counselor was a guy and it was just weird talking to him. I was always uncomfortable and VERY TENSE talking to him and we never got anywhere.

I am fat and ugly. I take diet pills, starve myself and puke out my food just so I can be good looking. If/When I lose the weight I will get plastic surgery all over. I hate seeing younger prettier girls. It makes me sick because I couldve been them if I had a better life. I blame myself for my shitty life. People tell me it's not my fault but it's easy to say cliches to help someone when youre not the one hurting.

The only reason why my suicide attempts havent been successful is because I always hope that itll get better. I'm young, this is just the process. One day Ill have a family and kids and it'll be great. This idea of a happy family keeps me going. If I'm in this same shit hole by the time I'm 30, I will kill myself–thats my plan; theres no need to live if you have to live in constant pain. Why is it so hard to be happy, to have a peace of mind?



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