As long as I can remember, I was tortured with an unbearable pain, a feeling I was too young to understand. As I grew, the pain did also. I finally searched the web, in search of a cure, symptons, anything, and found just what I was looking for. It was all there, everything on that site was about me; I had depression.

I guess at first I didn't really take it seriously. Sure I cried myself to sleep every night over something I didn't even know, but it wasn't strange now, it was continuous. It was something you got used to, like breathing.

That's when something hit me.. hard. Everytime I looked into the mirror, the face that stared back seemed as if it were a stranger, not me at all. Pale and tear-streaked, I stared at the horrible image. Why was I so fat? I had a sudden ambition to loose weight.

I was 80 pounds when I was 13, while all my friends were in their hundreds. I was weak, light-headed, and fragile, but no matter how many times somebody told me I was too skinny, I needed to gain weight, I continued to starve myself. My simple ambition turned into compulsive and serious obsession.

It's not as if I thought I was fat, just not skinny enough. I don't think my friends knew what I was going through. How could they? They didn't know anything about me anymore, just the smiling girl they always talked to at school. When I was at home, I was crying, doing anything destructive to my body, and even, at that point, thinking of suicide. I had nobody to talk to, nobody to lean on or help me when I fell.

My hunger made me arrogant, the slighted touch or word could set me off on anybody, and instead of taking it into serious matter, my friends only yelled back at me, calling me rude and that I "changed somehow". Do they really think thay helped? If only they knew that that was the night that I planned to kill myself. What would they do then?

When I got home, I sat down on my bed. I had a razor blade in one hand, and the phone in the other. I wasn't sure what I was supposed to do, should I write a letter? They always did that in movies, but this wasn't a movie. This was real. And that fact made me cry even harder. Shaking, I dialed my best friend's number. I told her how much I loved her, how she was my best friend, and she shouldn't be sorry about anything, I made her promise. Then, I started crying. I couldn't believe that in a few minutes I would be dead, and that nobody knew, nobody cared.

I did cut my wrist that night, but I did it the wrong way, and I'm thankful for it. I have a permanent scar across my wrist now as a reminder of those painful days. Just when I thought I was hopeless, I found hope. I made this website and another to keep my mind off of it, and online I found friends, people who shared the same experiences and were able to talk to me, but more importantly, listen to me. There's hope for everybody, you just can't give up so soon. ¤