So, this is a bit of a long story. I've attempted suicide 2 times, made plans for a third. I tried overdosing twice and had my bath drawn & toaster ready. All 3 times my friend Sarah called the cops. I confided in her each time because we had feelings for each other but she didn't want to date for whatever reason. I knew she'd call by the third time. I just figured I'd have more time, I guess. I don't know, it's hard, because I both feared (even dreaded) death, but I hated life, too. Watching yourself bring down those around you because of the emotional burden you put on everyone isn't pleasurable.

Obviously there was a lot of crying. Regret, in a sense, that I'd tried in the first place and even that I'd failed. The first time I was really angry, but I think that was mostly because of the stomach pain.

After the third time it happened, around July, Sarah blocked me from all social media, removed my number, too. At the time, it sucked, and I hated every second of my life at that point. But, over time, I actually got better.

See, it's weird, some friends are just toxic. They can be manipulative, stressful, or just annoying. But in Sarah's (and a couple other people's) case, some people are just toxic because of the way you speak to them. I don't know if other depressed people know what I'm talking about, but there are certain people where, whenever you talk to them, you start to feel depressed for whatever reason. I've gotten much better about simply cutting those people out of my life now. I don't need a reason to stop being friends with somebody. Now I only talk to people that make me happy, if at all. I get rid of almost every number I get. I'm introverted, and that's okay.

As an aside, it's kinda funny. The nurse (on my third visit) asked me how I would react if Sarah stopped talking to me. She pointed out that it was quite the burden on someone to have your life in their hands. I responded, staring off into space, that I'd be a wreck. Damned if that's not the farthest thing from the truth.