I was a pretty miserable kid. I threatened suicide a few times when I was 9-12. It was probably the only time my mom ever hit me in my life. I bottled a lot up in those years, but I promised to wait until I was 25 to decide whether or not my life was a complete failure.
Flash forward to 25. It had been a pretty rough road. The ups and downs were and still are pretty extreme. However, I made a lot of friends. I became a lot more aware of the feelings of people around me. I realized what it would do to my close friends and my family partly because I've went through that type of pain twice now, with an ex and a friend from college. I figured out why my mom was so angry when I had talked about killing myself. I feel really bad for putting her through that. After the divorce, my brother and I were all that was left.
I can't say that I'm really all that happy now. To be honest, part of me is still pretty apathetic about dying. I should probably see a therapist or something about that, but I've never been able to bring myself to do it. Still, I don't I could kill myself at this point.
If I could go back, I'd tell my 9 year old self not to worry so much about fitting in or growing up. I'd tell myself that I was going to grow up tall, surprisingly athletic, and better than average looking. I'd tell myself not to tell my mom that I wanted to kill myself, but rather to come to her and ask about therapy.