At 12, I never understood why cuts were said to be angry until I brought a blade to my wrist.
At 13, I never understood why suicide is considered selfish until I almost lost my best friend.
At 14, I never understood what drove someone to starve them self until I looked in the mirror.
At 15, I never understood the pull of death until I tried to take my own life.
At 16, I never understood why I couldn’t sleep until one day I didn’t want to.
At 17, I finally understand that I’m not going to be okay.
I’m going to survive.