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I don't even remember when my first thoughts of suicide were. I do know, though, that I was young. I remember having suicidal thoughts at the age of 10. I am currently 21 and they haven't stopped. They have slowed down, and I only get them occasionally now, but sometimes I still wonder if it would be better for everyone.

Now, some things you need to know. I am a very rational person. And, yet, at the same time, I am a very passionate person. I did not have the best childhood, but then again, who really does? I haven't had the best life in general. I've screwed things up for myself, and I'm working on fixing some of those things. I was sexually, physically, and mentally abused as a child. I have been in therapy... in fact, I was in therapy for about 7 years. It helps, but I don't think it completely solves anything.

As far back as I can remember, I wanted to die. I didn't want to hurt anymore. I didn't want to hurt those around me. My reasons changed periodically through my life, but there was always something. Mostly, I always felt like I was hurting someone I loved. Or that if I were to fix the problem of the moment, I would. So, wouldn't it be better to take myself out of the picture? Then I couldn't hurt those people anymore. Of course, I know better now. Many times before I was 15 I contemplated suicide... quite a few of those times I planned it. And more times that I'd prefer to admit, I attempted. I tried different methods, but since I'm here writing this, it's obvious that none of them succeeded. I had many things that stopped me.

I am the oldest child of seven. One of my little sisters and I are very close. She is five years younger than me. We've always had kind of a link. She plays a very big part in one of my most vivid memories of attempt. For whatever reason, on this particular night, I decided that I didn't deserve to live. During this time period, I was also being sexually abused my step-dad. I don't remember the particulars of why that night, but I remember what. I went and got a huge handful of aspirin from the cabinet; I had access to the headache medicines because I get migraines. Anyway, after I grabbed the aspirin, I went back to my room. I took about half of what I had, before I got too scared to continue. As I sat on my bedroom floor, crying, I heard a knock on my door. It was after midnight, so I wasn't sure who it was. I stashed the rest of the aspirin in my pocket and opened the door. It was Rheanna. She asked me if I was ok, and I told her not really. She hugged me, and I cried harder. That night she slept in my room with me, and it was the biggest comfort I could have had. She had no idea what happened, and I doubt she even remembers that night. But I do. I'll never forget it.

As some of my issues got worked out, some of my suicidal thoughts and tendencies slowed down. For a while, they even stopped. But I think it's kind of like addiction. Unless you keep a close watch on it, it can sneak back into your life. I haven't attempted suicide for quite a few years now, but the thoughts have crept in every once in a while. Wouldn't everyone's lives be better without me screwing them up? Wouldn't everyone be happier? But now I know that death is permanent, and not what I want. I want to raise my son, I want to live my life. I may have the thoughts, but the urge is no longer there.

Learn more about this author, Natasha Parsons.
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