/arch/ - Twilight's Library

>> 36469483

I know that feel, bro. Year 2 upwards was hell for me. One day, I just walk into the class, and no-one says a word to me. I don't talk to anyone for that year, 3rd, some kids ask me to throw what I thought was a discarded shirt into a bog (I saw someone running at me, and hesitated). Belonged to Zach, who was my only mate for the next 3 years. Grade 6, older kids give me crap as well, but in year seven, things began to pick up. I got to know a few guys better, and ended up with a tidy, close circle of friends. Sadly, those against me banded together too, and years 8-9 were hell. After trying to bash one to death with a hockey stick (didn't catch him, luckily), I was diagnosed with Induced Sociopathy. (When anyone gets on my nerves, I lose all empathy for them.) When medication was recommended, I refused, stuck to my guns, and come year 10, I was no longer teased, so much as revered. After the hockey stick incident, all I had to do was look in their general direction, and they'd run. In year 11, I'd made peace with most of them, and for the first time, had more friends than enemies. I am now a year 12 student,officially cured of Induced Sociopathy, coping with Exams and Tests, one after another, but a few kids (none in my year) still find it funny to piss-take me. MLP:FIM helps me cope with any struggles that life throws at me.

If those kids haven't seen you for years, they've probably forgotten about you, and/or grown up. Make a good first re-impression, and you're solid. They still hating? Band with whatever mates you do have, and wait it out. Patience and kindness turns foe into friend.

Persevere!

Many times I have found others who know someone who is severely depressed or contemplating suicide, and those individuals are unsure of how to best handle their friends. They are concerned for their loved ones, and naturally don't wish to see any harm come to them. I have much experience in this area, sadly, and I have some general advice on this.

Get in the know with the depressed individuals friends. Know who they talk to, know their support system, know their confidants and trustees. Communication, team work, and planning can be very effective for chronic individuals.
Try to be as open and honest as possible. Talk with them when you can, don't try to assume that you know what they are going through, and overall try to be empathetic. Possibly the best way to ensure full trust is to trust them first; that is why being open is so important.
Possibly the most important part of protecting them, is to not control them. Don't threaten them with talking to their parents, teachers, psychologists, police, anyone of that sort. Leave them their autonomy. Don't try to force them out of the ability to harm themselves, try to convince them away from the temptation.
Watch them for sudden mood swings, good or bad. This can indicate anything, but it always means that something has happened. Try to find out what it is, but don't be too pushy. That can scare them off or make them defensive. Beware thinking that they are back to normal just because they seem happy; this can be a cruel trap that I have seen played out far too often. Calm before the storm, and all that.
Anything else I could say is too specific, but I hope this helps. I know it's not really a personal story, nor a self-help idea like the thread is for, but if it does anyone some good, then it was worth it.
Love and Tolerance, Peace and Joy.

This girl met me at college in a class we had. We talked and really hit it off. Months later she became my girlfriend. We started dating for a year or more and now we live together.

We are happy together, however I sometimes feel really anxious, guilty and feeling kind of dirty around her.

The truth is that I've been stalking her for months prior to having class with her. The reason why we had class together is because I found out her schedule ahead of time and tried to have a class with her. She was just a stranger to me who I only admired from the far. I found out her name and looked it up on some social networking sites where I would find out about her interest and daily life . She posted her upcoming class schedule which is how I found out which class I can pick to be with her. I would save any pic of her I can and I used to follow her around campus .

Should I tell my girlfriend that I used to stalk her or is it better to just not let her know?

>>2508058
Let her know. If you keep something like this hidden and you keep worrying and stressing over it eventually it will build into something worse and you might end up losing her or worse.
A relationship needs trust and if telling her that you set it up so you would have class with her to meet her upsets her, I guess it's her loss. But on the same note it could be very flattering to her too that you went through so much effort to meet her.

could somepony please leave me a package with a .45 1911 in it. That is all.
Please, I beg of you, in tears, PLEASE do this for me.

>>2508060
Nope.

The greatest victory is to tell all that is bringing you down "fuck you". To overcome obsticales a stronger person. Suicide is failure. Proving everyone right. Psh, prove them wrong, pony!

my advice: never give up ~ no matter what

i've delt with mental and physical abuse. and was forced to do terrible things. it was so terrible. i have been depressed and sometimes it's hard to walk outside my house. but every day i try... and life has gotten better. some days are worse than others, but i have a lot of good things in my life now that was worth me never giving up.

>>2508058
Mostly this >>2508059 but also make sure to not say it so bluntly. It might come as a shock to her so its best if you add some fluff or dont say it all at once. If you dont make it sound like downright stalking it can seem kinda cute.

mfw
Archived :>

Dont let the advice die just cos were not in /chat/ now :<

>>2508223
It saddens me greatly that being immortalized killed this thread :(

Well, I have seen and been through some scary shit, maybe not as bad as other's problems on here but it still hits me hard. So I used to live in Georgia and my parents would fight a lot when I was around 5. I was very young at the time so I didn't know what was going on, I just new they didn't like each other much anymore. Then the divorce came up when I was 7. I was very upset and depressed. We had to move out of our house to go live in California on Christmas Day, which sucked cause I was thinking, "Santa, this isn't a very good gift." My Dad went with us to the airport so he could say his goodbyes. I tried not to cry, I couldn't stand it. I was holding onto my Dad and wouldn't let go. My Mom just grabbed my arm and started dragging me on the concrete inside of the parking lot, I tried to break free but I couldn't. I started screaming, "DDAAAAAADDYYYYYY!! HEELLPPP MEEEEEE!! I DON'T WANNA GOO DAAD!" My shirt was very wet from the tears. I was depressed a lot after that experience, and that is just one of the many terrifying things I have been through. One just happened recently where I almost killed myself, I will post that later maybe. I'm pretty sure you guys can guess why that stuff hits me hard and will never leave my memory.

In january 2010, my father passed away after after a long and painful life we shared. (Note, this may end up being a wall of text/life story, but I really feel a need to share it, so please, bare with me).

He was born in 1947 out of wedlock in a town deep in the bible belt of America, to two people who were already married to others. His father was a respected business man who raised him in secret, making sure he reveled to no one, not even us, his own future children who his father really was. He grew up with his mother, who had gotten divorced from her husband as a result of the affair, by themselves in the 1950s.

He graduated law school in the late 60s and went on to become a successful lawyer, one of the top rated in The state. However he suffered from physiological issues (asthma, hereditary type 2 diabettes) as well as numerous psychological issues that started around 1972 when his father died . He had what I now realize was an inferiority complex which I believe was caused by a massive sense of rejection from society in the 50s, his parents raised him lovingly but I suspect he always felt guilty for being a secret shame to his father, about being "illegitimate" in a hyper-conservative society where children like him were not supposed to exist (though there were probably far more like him than most "descent" people would have liked to admit). He also had developed a massive case of generalized anxiety disorder, recurrent periods of clinical depression and severe anger management issues. His primary way of dealing with this was the only way a "proper" man was supposed to deal with psychological issues: sucking it up and taking it like a man, and lubricating with plenty of alcohol.

I was born in 1981, the last of my parent's children. My childhood home was tumultuous as well, mostly due to my father's aforementioned problems. Some days, he was a very loving though somepony desperate father, trying very hard to maintain relationships with his three children, and other times he didn't seem to give a shit, fighting with us over his disappointments, fighting with my mother as a way to deal with his own issues. He was drunk on a nightly basis (never during daylight hours), and indulged in activities that only seemed to make him angrier. Other times he seemed to wallow in shame and regret over things that never went exactly as he wanted them in his life or regret that he was driving a wedge between himself and his family. I didn't learn until after he died that he was BETTER behaved in the 80s and 90s than he was in the 70s when he would occasionally treat my mother like a literal punching bag.

Throughout my childhood, my father had a poor attitude about life and about his family. He was always the pessimist, he was extremely cynical, and I suspect he believed that I was mentally retarded. He drove a wedge between my (significantly) older sister and himself and expressed nothing but regret over it throughout the 90s. He seemed to show nothing but disapointment for my older brother, who had inherited his first name, and he seemed to believe I could never amount to anything because I had a learning disorder (specifically Auditory Processing Disorder). My sister's way of dealing with it was to basically disconnect from the family as soon as she entered her teen years, my brother got into drugs and I became a bitter, cynical, pessimistic, anti-social flankhole who basically hated almost everypony.

This is not entire my father's fault though, he had worked hard so we could live in an upper-middle class inner city suburb of San Antonio called Alamo Heights, a place were Reaganomics was the local religion and yuppies abounded. It was the kind of community where everything said by anypony had a competitive subtext, the kind of place where it was easy to develop a paranoid personality disorder, where cynicism flourished, where nearly every social interaction involved somepony trying to humiliate somepony else, and it was easy to develop a general hatred for humanity if you existed in a space between the social classes.

By the late 90s, around 1997, I hated everypony but my mother and the handful of friends I had at the time (literally, I could count the number of them on one hand). I also suffered from classical clinical depression. 1997 was also the year my mother, the person with whom I was closest to in my life, was diagnosed with non-hodgekins lymphona, a type of cancer that is generally considered curable, but still runs a risk of death like any cancer. 1997 was the year that strained the family relations most, with my brother getting heavily involved in drug abuse, and my father constantly picking fights with us as a way of dealing with his anxieties and frustrations, all while my mother endured chemo therapy. My mother survived and is still living to this day some 14 years later, but we all had psychological scars, so much so I ended up going to therapy for clinical depression and anxiety disorder.

During the therapy, based on what I had confessed to my therapist, we decided to have a number of family therapy sessions, In these sessions, I learned secrets that my father kept about his childhood and came to realize something very important : He and I were fundamentally the same person, metaphorically speaking of course. I came to realize that I could potentially end up just like my father or worse if I continued down the same path I was going. That day set the path for the rest of my life. My hatred for my father became empathy, I realized that he had struggled his whole life to prove himself worthy to a world that constantly rejected him, and even if our childhood circumstances were not exactly the same, we still suffered together that sense of being rejected by the world. In many ways, my father became my best friend.

>>2508433
In the years following my mothers chemotherapy, I made a conscious effort to be more connected to him. We started a somewhat short lived tradition of going on trips together during spring and winter break to various famous places and cities, just me and him. He also started to do this with my mother.

In 2000 when I decided to graduate from high school rather than drop out and then I decided to attend university and major in psychology, partly out of a desire to understand my own problems and partly out of a desire to understand my family's problems. I found I really didn't like psychology that much and the only class that really helped me was a course on abnormal psychology, which helped me understand my father even better than that therapy session confessional in 1997, and for the first time in felt like I actually had a real father.

By 2004, I had switched majors many many times trying to decide what I wanted to do after college, and by that point I qualified for an Associates in Liberal Arts and just took it. Despite the fact that it was not a very powerful degree, it did have the effect of making the relationship with my father more reciprocal. He frequently expressed pride that I could say I was an educated man. About a year later, he was delighted when I announced I would go back to school and actually focus on a major : Computer Science.

The 2000s were not without problems for my father and my family. Decades of bad financial decisions made in haste, ruined credit ratings, and lost retirement funds, and lost health insurance left my parents in dire straights. Add to this years of alcohol abuse and denial over medical conditions like diabetes led to a decade that severely strained the relationship between my parents. In 2006 my father's condition had gotten to the point that he was clearly too ill to work, though he refused to retire (he couldn't !). He had collapsed during a meeting with a prospective client, and ended up in the hospital, He was informed by a cardiologist that he had nearly had a heart attack and that if he didn't get a double bypass operation, he could have one at any moment. After fighting over it for a while, my parents decided to go ahead with the operation despite the fact that the the health insurance would not cover it. At first, they had decided to sell the house I grew up in to pay for it. The house had been a huge point of pride for my father, and after the operation, he had second thoughts about selling it, trying desperately to find another way around having to do so, which often led to numerous arguments and fights with my mother all the way until the end of the year, when I fought with him for the first time in a decade. Fortunately that would be the last time I ever fought with him.

In 2008, he had a stroke caused by excessive fluid in his blood, which was in turned caused by his failing kidneys (a long term complication of diabetes), and he began a 3-times-a-week regiment of dialysis. He recovered from the stroke, but not without problems, he now had problems balancing, and walking. Again his psychological problems and pessimism kept him from fully recovering, he could have regained the ability to walk if he had stuck to his physical therapy regiment, but he didn't feel it was worth it. He spent the last two years of his living back and forth between a wheel chair and a walker. At this point in my life, I had decided to graduate as soon as possible so I could take care of my parents, being the only child in the family who had yet to move out. I graduated from UTSA in may of 2009 with a bachelors in computer science. Before the graduation ceremony my father said something to me that still haunts me to this day, a little over two years later: "If you hear a popping sound from the handicap section of the auditorium, that's the buttons of my shirt popping off as my chest swells with pride"

My father never retired, he had to change the nature of his business from that of a trial lawyer to that of a legal consultant because it became increasingly difficult for him to leave the house. In mid 2009 he started to develop a disturbing symptom, his breathing became more and more shallow as his lung capacity shrank. By November, we had taken him to see his cardiologist to find out what was happening and found he had yet another problem. His lungs were slowly filling with fluid as the walls began to break down, partially as a result of excessive blood fluid and partially as a result of years of asthma related lung damage. After the fluid in his lungs were drained, the severity of the problem became magnified, the fluid in the lungs had caused the formation of a thick protein build up in his right side that could not be removed. He would need a lung transplant, but that prospects of surviving a lung transplant were slim if he did not get a kidney transplant. The unlikelihood of any of this ever happening led the doctors to advice that we place my father in a hospice.

By January of 2010, I had felt like a failure, My plan had been to get my degree, find a job, and support my parents until their eventual deaths. I felt like I had to rush because my father's health was failing fast and his ability to stay aloft financially was quickly disappearing. But despite my best efforts, I could not find a job with my degree, the economy was collapsing, and not even my new technology-centered degree was going to save us, I was going to need more than just a B.S. unless I wanted to spend the rest of my life with the cashier job I was lucky to find.

On January 10, 2010, my father was having a panic attack at the hospital, and I was there, being his security blanket, holding his hand as he trembled, by the time he had calmed down he said to me "Okay, you can go home, take care of your mother". Those would be the last words He ever spoke to me. The next morning, he wouldn't wake up, The doctors found him in a vegetative state, not quite dead and not quite alive, barely responding. They put him on a life support system and shoved a tube down into his lung to keep him breathing, he finally responded by trying to pull the tubes out of his mouth, then passed out again.

>>2508434
We were called shortly afterwords, I called into work and told them I was not coming in. The entire family was there, me, my mother, my brother and his wife, my sister and her husband, the only one's not there were the grandchildren, whom we all believed to be a bit too young to handle this emotionally. While my mother, sister and brother, seemed to be able to compose themselves with solemness, I was unable to sit in that room for more than thirty minutes at a time. I had to leave every so often so I wouldn't have to see it. Whenever I looked at the bed where my father was laying in a deadened state, I saw not only him but also myself.

In a strange twist of fate his life was flashing before my eyes, I thought of him growing up in San Antonio without being able to say "Hello Dad!" in public to his father, I imagined him being picked on in school, I imagined the anger and frustration he must have felt like I did when I was that age, I imagined him trying to do everything he could in life to prove he was worth something to somepony. I imagined every pain and frustration he must have felt everytime he failed at something just as I did. I imagined him and i never really feeling like he was really worth anything even when he succeeded, but most of all, I remembered that day in may when we told me how proud he was of my accomplishments as he breathed laboriously in his wheelchair.

An image from that day that will probably always haunt me is the moment I knew my dad was gone for good. His eyes opened and never shut, staring at nothing in particular as the pigment of his irises literally started to bleed into the whites of his eyes. My mother had decided to give him one more session of dialysis, to relive the possible ketoacidosis. At that point we knew it was basically over, the hospital wanted to keep him alive, as is their standard practice, and perform a CT scan to determine whether or not he had suffered from another stroke, though we felt it was obvious. My father had previously signed a prior authorization when he had his double bypass in 2006 but he had never written a living will, nor a DNR order, so it was up to us to decide whether or not to pull the plug. We decided, that if he were to recover, he would still be suffering from breathing problems, kidney problems, and he would probably be missing large portions of his mental capacity, something an intellectual like my father would never be able to live with very long. After sunset, we decided to remove my father from life support and put him on a morphine drip. He didn't react, he just slowly stopped breathing. That night everypony slept at our house.

A couple of weeks later, we held a memorial service for everypony my father knew. Grown men I had known much of my life from meetings my dad would have with them and fishing trips in years passed I had seen break down in tears, including the most foul-mouthed litigator I had ever met. The crowd of people whom I mostly did not recognize had decided it was best to tell stories of their times with my father and I got a rare glimpse of something I never knew about and my father and something he himself probably never believed, that he was loved by many people He had touched more lives than he realized or wanted to acknowledged. People he probably never really believed were his best friends skipped work and traveled across the state to break-down publicly. Many of them were people I never knew and probably never would, many of them were former clients, and my dad was never the type to break client-attorney confidentiality, even privately, to people he would have trusted the most.

The thing that most touched me about that day was a woman I met for the first time in my life who never gave me her name, and whose name my father never would have given to me, all she said about her self was that my father had saved her life.

That day I loved my father more than any other day in my life.


2010 was probably the hardest year of my life, I had never thought at the time just how long death stays with you and how much it can distort your world long after it has passed.

By the summertime, I had quit my job as a cashier, I was determined to make something of myself, to try and survive in this economy by going back to school, and getting the Master's Degree that I had promised to myself. My mother had agreed to allow me to live with her and support me with the life insurance money my father left behind.

>>2508435
I started attending classes again as a way of coping with my father's death, by fulfilling a dream that would have made him proud. Life is never that easy it turns out.

I was unable to attend graduate courses in the summer as they did not offer any of the ones I needed at the time so I took an easy undergraduate course just to kill some time. By the fall my real course work began and I proceeded to shoot my self in the foot by taking on more work than I was ready for, I was determined to finish in two years so that I did not have to depend on my father's life insurance any longer than necessary. I started suffering from panic attacks and sleepless nights as I became my father all over again. I even started developing my own medical complications as well, loss of feeling in my left ankle (a sign of diabetic complications) and spots in my vision (another sign). The stress was mostly psychological though, the money itself was like a parting gift from my father, and yet it was like a curse, and the feeling that I needed to make the best of it was only exacerbating the problem. I started to see a therapist again back in october, and also undergo medical testing to determine whether or not my own medical complications are related to my diabetes or to other possible causes (like multiple sclerosis, one of the things I was tested for, fortunately the test came back negative). By the time I got a little over halfway through the semester, I was failing everything and decided to abandon ship, I withdrew from all my courses so as not to actually fail them.

It was like a curse in disguise, I could not rely on my dad's money without the constant fear of failing him at every turn. At the advice of my therapist, I decided instead to go to classes only part time, to start writing letters to my father, and hiding them away in a place I can read them again later, and to pay for my classes with student loans.

It took me a year to get to a point where I felt I could finally really begin to let go, and that day was the first anniversary of my fathers death, January 11, 2011. When he died, we decided to have him cremated, and we kept the ashes for ourselves in a modest box, until the day we planned to spread them. We had decided to spread the ashes in a place that was very dear to my father, Corpus Christi, TX. It was one of the places my father grew up with his mother as they moved around Texas during his childhood and one of his favorite places to go when he needed to get away from the world on vacation. The last time I saw my father, he was a pile of ashes falling of the side of a small motorboat in the middle of the Bay.

I went back to school that spring with a great sense of relief and worked hard with only two classes, got myself a couple of Bs and am set to start again at the end of this month.

I usually never share the letters I write to my father, since my therapist never said I had to, But I will share this last letter, I wrote, probably because it will be the last one I ever write:

Dear Dad,
Last night I had another dream about you. I was in London with my friends showing them all the places we went back in '97, Piccadilly Circus, Parliament, Leicester Square, the British Museum, everywhere we went. I went back to the old hotel in Piccadilly we stayed that week, and I found you there, with the kind of smile on your face I had not seen in years. Now I know you are a part of me and forever will be, and you know as well as I do that life only persist in memories. So what part of me do you represent tonight dad ? Are you the part of me that once hated the world, that once wished at nights to just never wake-up the next day ? Are you smiling cause Ive left you here, in a place far away from me, long ago in a past I'll never forget ? Or are you the part of me who has come to learn from your life and your death that no matter how unloved I feel sometimes, no matter how alone I feel at times, and no matter how hopeless I feel at times that I am always effecting the lives everypony that I meet ? Are you the part of me that realizes that when I die, I may just as well have a funeral of a hundred strangers and friends I never knew I had ? Is that why you're smiling dad ? Are you the part of me who knows that when I die, my ashes will be tossed into the sea by those who love me, and are sad to see me go as I was of you ? And are you smiling because I've left you here in a part of my memory where you were happiest ? You don't answer me, you just turn your head, and keep smiling, watching the lights of Piccadilly Circus, watching the restaurants we ate at, the theaters we went to, and the underground stations were we rode back to that one night as all the pubs were closing. Im glad you're here dad. Im glad I can find you here, as well as on that pier in Rockport, that beach in Port Aransas, Elmo's Restaurant on Water Street and the coastal towns along that highway in Oregon, all the places I remember you best.

Dad, I know I may see you in a memory again one day, of this I am sure, though I may not write anymore letters to you. You and I both know that I've still got a lot of healing to do, that my life will never be as easy as I wish it were. Sometimes I forget that I make my life worse than it needs to be, sometimes I forget that bad things are only as good as I make them, and good things can become bad if I make them that way. Sometimes I forget to live in the moment and miss it as I worry about things too far in the future. Sometimes I forget about the people around me, and how what I do effects them, no matter how insignificant I feel. Sometimes I forget what I can control about my life and what I can't, fighting what I can't change and failing to change what I can. Dad, I guess we've got a lot in common huh ? But some days, when I remember these things I've learned from your life, my life becomes a little easier, a little more joyful and fun, and the day-to-day pains of living become smaller and less significant, and I find you in a dream late at night, smiling in Piccadilly Circus over a crowd of a hundred strangers you now know have always been your friends.

-Your Son, Andrew

For those of you who had the patience to read through all of this, Thank you very very much. This took me a very long time to write. I had been meaning to write something like this and post it somewhere as a means of self-therapy. This thread inspired me to go ahead and do so, a good year and a half later.

>>2508437
Oh and to add to this, sorry if the grammar or spelling seems a little weird at times, It was a stream of consciousness effort, and I did not bother to proofread it.

its good to share :)

I've been kind of depressed for a year or 2 now.
I would think its mostly because of general lonelyness. I mean, i have friends, but no close friends. Nopony to tell those things you just need to talk about. No one you can actually be honest to. I've never been to comfortable talking about such things.
There have been ups and down, some down to suicidal level, and some up to just plain happy.
Advice on how to cope is hard. I just... go on with it.
However, i find music helps at some points. And weeping.
So. Yeah.

Keep it up

Before High School, I was in a public middle school, where I was truly hated. I actually contemplated suicide many times when I was only 12.

Along with you all, I too have thouht of suicide. Once, though, and I got through it easily. The thing with my life.. Is that I've always been a fake. I'm not entirely sure what moment in my life caused this, but I don't trust anypony. Not my parents, not my brothers, not my closest friend, nopony. I don't know if this is a mental issue or anything, but I think I was raised this way. There's many things in my life I couldn't and won't be able to accomplish because of my... status, bluntly put. But, ever since elementary school (I've always been in public schools), I've always put this wall around me, and never let people in. I've lost so many girlfriends because of trust issues. Whenever I feel close to a person, like, trusting close, I HAVE to push them away. I don't want to, I HAVE to... it just happens. I lost one of the best girls in my whole life due to the fact that I tried to fuck things up by lying, pushing her away, and getting angry at literally NOTHING. Now, we don't talk, she barely ever looks at me. I also think I'm a compulsive liar, because even when there's nothing wrong with the truth of the situation, I feel like I MUST lie. I don't know why, it happens subconsciously. But, I've decided to turn my life around. I'm trying to trust people. And I've dedicated myself to trying to pursue the Elements of Harmony. I'm a very social person, and everypony knows me for my loud voice. Like Pinky Pie, which is why she's my 2nd/3rd favorite pony (DJ P0n-3 is favorite, then a tie between Fluttershy and PP). I say I have the Laughter and spirit of fun within me already. I also think I have Loyalty down, because I always stick with my friends. When they kid, when they're serious, I'm always by them and stand by them no matter what. I lost my best (and I mean BEST) friend for some months, and I have to say that having him back is the best thing ever. Now, I've dedicated myself to Honesty. Which is, quite frankly, almost impossible. I am being honest with anypony and everypony, but because of my past, only 3 people I know trust me, even though I never confess anything to them, they know I tell the truth and when I'm being serious. Everypony else thinks I'm only lying and/or using them to achieve something, which, even though I am ashamed to say, used to be true. I used people very much to gain the upper hand at things, and yeah, it worked, but only temporarily. Now they all hate me. Every one of them, Later would be Generosity, and Kindness (Which would also be a hard one).

Also, I don't know why, and I've begun to notice this recently, but when I walk around at school, people seem to stare at me. I think my reputation is bigger than I thought, or I'm being ultra-paranoid. I don't know. I guess this is my life story. If you read this, then I award you an internet.

Thank you everypony, and also, bump to this thread that's made me become a better person.

Speaking from experience: know your limits. A little background info, I was NOT succeeding in public school. It got to the point where I'd maybe spend an hour in school before being sent home with severe panic attacks. I didn't know my limits at the time, I thought I could just "deal with it" or that it would go away eventually. It didn't. I had to leave after the first semester and switch to a charter school.

The point is, there's always some point that you just can't handle it on your own any more, and it's VERY important to know what that point is, and when you've hit it.

A general-purpose piece of advice I'd give to everypony (and I do mean EVERYPONY) is to be more introspective. The ability to know yourself from an objective point of view is a very important skill.

I'll post this though I don't think I'll read the thread in the future. As many before have stated it's nice just getting it out there.

The weird thing is that I don't feel that depressed or anxious even though I should feel like shit. Anyhoof, some things in my childhood were pretty bad. My father died when I was seven and I where bullied through almost my whole time through school, even if they never were that bad I don't mean to defend them what they did was aweful but on the other hand I know a little about the guys who bullied me and I can see why they did it. First off I was annoying as all hell when I was younger and I've found out that the worst of my bullies mother drank and shit like that. I also want to mention that I fell deeply in love with a girl during this time (I was fourteen) but when I finally confessed my love to her she wasn't interested, but we stayed friends.

Later on (16-18 years old), I found it hard to find a girl I could fall in love with I did find one but I kind of messed it up because I couldn't read the signs (something I've gotten better at but still pretty bad). It didn't really blow up we just stopped seeing each other, which I regret since I still have no one I can date.

During this time I was still in love with the first girl I met even though I tried to get over her. During this time I found out that she had cancer but it didn't look to bad I was really sad since my father died of the same cause. About one year later she died of her sickness and I didn't get to know until about two months after when a common friend told me. I never knew about her funeral but she will always have a special place in my heart since she was the first girl I ever loved and somehow I always thought we would end up together in the end. My last tear for her have not been shed and I think of her from time to time but it will get better.

Until about a year ago my mother had a serious problem with drinking. The worst feeling was that I had nowhere to go since I didn't want to be home when she was drunk and I didn't want my friends to know. I still don't think most of my friends ever found out, I did tell one of them who's mother is also an alchoholic. Because of this I started walking mostly because I had nothing else to do. My mother have been sober now for about a year and I really, REALLY! hope that she will stay sober for the rest of her life.

Ok, that was a long and kind of hard to write but now it's out there and I want to finish on a happier note. So here's some of what I've earned and learned from my life.

>Confess your true feelings early because you never know how much time you'll have with them.
>A love for walking (somehow I should hate it.)
>I never drink more than two or three drinks in an evening and I leave before people get drunk.
>I will not tell on a friend but I will never lie either. I will not answer all questions.

And last but not least to all of you struggling out there keep going, sooner or later it'll get better. I'd give my email if you wanted to talk but I wish to stay anon. Hugs to you all.

I've got a pretty long story, your basic emotional roller-coaster here from really early on. I've been the victim of a lot of things, and the damage it's done has left me victimizing a lot of people. I'm not plying for sympathy, but just stating what I would consider the facts.

First a bit of background info. My parents were 17 and 18 respectively when I was born, and only even got married when I was about 2 years opony. Originally they wanted to put me up for adoption, but thankfully (Or not, I guess, I don't know) my grandparents stepped in and stopped them.

Being teenagers, their parenting skills were extremely questionable and their marriage was a train-wreck of physical and emotional abuse that extended into the lives of nearly everypony around us on some level.

My father, a highschool dropout and lots of other fun things that will come to light in here, was always finding a new way to sink further down on the totem pole of human decency and frequently stole, did all sorts of drugs, and beat my mother half to death.

My mother was an expert at living in denial, trying to change him and get him a job, which he'd always quit, once or two never even showing up on the first day of work but SOMEHOW getting the job to begin with.

I lived with them up until I was around 7 years old. It was hard living in such an unstable home, we didn't have money and when my 'dad' wasn't beating my mother he was tormenting me. He'd throw shit at me, badmouth my mother whenever he could, one time he broke my nose when I defended her good name like the child desperate to see the good in these people I was.

So that played itself out pretty agonizingly slowly, and should have ended many times but didn't. My personal favorite was when I caught my father in bed with another woman, told my mother about it(Obviously not sure what the hay was going on, but it was quite out of place even then) and got called a liar. Apparently I was trying to destroy their perfect lives together before I was 10, makes sense.

Anyway, this just drove a wedge between us further and I couldn't deal with it anymore, I begged my grandparents to try and help me live with them so I could escape those two and my mother was noticeably relieved when they got guardianship over me.

Still didn't stop sucking though, I was always having problems in school with my emotions and anger and bullies who would try their best to stir me up. I complied quite readily unfortunately, responding to words with violence in a way that now sickens me and reminds me of my father.

Always in detention or suspended from school, I was learning pretty much nothing and eventually the school put me in a Special Ed class with a literal drooling retard and some psychotic serial killer hopefuls. Stuck around in there for a few years, every day getting a little more jaded and hateful toward the school and everypony that tried to help me.

That class had one redeeming factor at least, the teacher was a very nice woman who tried her best to get me to keep my chin up and she took issue with the school having me in there to begin with. Eventually she quit when the principal wouldn't do anything about it.

Sucks losing one of your best advocates when you've got so few. The next teacher was okay, but not as keen on helping me as the previous one was and things just got worse. I eventually ended up in a small 'time out' room 90% of the school day for this or that fit of rage or emotional outburst.

Soon enough they had me seeing a shrink who diagnosed me with bi-polar disorder and I ended up on a couple different kinds of medication to 'help'. They didn't though, one made me so tired I couldn't do anything but sleep in that small room all day, the other made me gain like 80 pounds and I was equally unstable.

So when those things didn't work, and I kept being a thorn in the school's side they wanted to 'scare me straight' and I ended up overnight at a mental health institution, locked in yet another small room. At least this one was padded, right?

So boy, that didn't work either, imagine that. The school wanted to expel me soon enough, but before they could my grandmother pulled me out to home-school me. She wasn't exactly a qualified teacher, but she tried. At least at home I had the internet, so I was learning a lot more than in school, but I was one hell of a loner. When I wasn't studying whatever by myself I tended to be retreating into video games to help me put all of this shit out of my mind for a while.

Going off the topic of me for a second and going back to my parents. Around this time they FINALLY got a permanent divorce when my sister, who was born around when I first got shoved into that special ed class, told my mother my father molested her.

Yeah, I know right? I found out too, of course, giving me yet another thing to think about and some more reasons to resent that bastard. My reaction included because my sister's trauma pretty much goes without saying.

He finally stopped being a part of this as a result, and that's a hell of a weight off your shoulders when your father is that awful. I was still with my grandparents though, and pretty jealous of my sister for getting to live with my mother.

I know, I'm a terrible person, jealous of a rape victim, right? Getting it out there all the same, because it's true.

My grandparents are great people and all, but the feelings of abandonment and despair don't go away all the same. Every day I thought about suicide or ways out, but I desperately wanted to believe that there was a light at the end of the tunnel and wanted to be strong and see it.

In the end, I just retreated further into videogames and music and got into MMOs and binging pretty heavily on them. Another thing I hate thinking about, it might not have been drugs but I ended up falling back on addiction and self-destruction just as much as my father ever did.

Eventually when I was around 18 my mother and sister moved across the country and I never see them now. I 'graduated' highschool and in the interests of legitimizing it, went on and got a GED.

Not having them around anymore has made coping a lot easier, forgetting a lot easier. Finally, recently, I've just tried my hardest to let go of my hatred and self-loathing and try to treat all of this as a learning experience and move on with my life.

I quit MMOs, started thinking about my future again in a less depressing light. Got a job. I feel like it helps, though I still sulk here and there and still have to cry about it all from time to time.

I don't have a magical cure-all for depression, a way to wave off everything that hurts me or you, but I think that if I and people like me can keep being strong and taking small strides towards bettering themselves, one day we can escape our dark places and pasts and become the kind of people we were born to be.

So that's it, sorry it's so incredibly long. I tried to skip the small things and go with the bigger events that shaped who I am today.

Hope somewhere in there I help somepony overcome their problems. Only time I've ever typed it all up like this.

I've got a pretty long story, your basic emotional roller-coaster here from really early on. I've been the victim of a lot of things, and the damage it's done has left me victimizing a lot of people. I'm not plying for sympathy, but just stating what I would consider the facts.

First a bit of background info. My parents were 17 and 18 respectively when I was born, and only even got married when I was about 2 years opony. Originally they wanted to put me up for adoption, but thankfully (Or not, I guess, I don't know) my grandparents stepped in and stopped them.

Being teenagers, their parenting skills were extremely questionable and their marriage was a train-wreck of physical and emotional abuse that extended into the lives of nearly everypony around us on some level.

My father, a highschool dropout and lots of other fun things that will come to light in here, was always finding a new way to sink further down on the totem pole of human decency and frequently stole, did all sorts of drugs, and beat my mother half to death.

My mother was an expert at living in denial, trying to change him and get him a job, which he'd always quit, once or two never even showing up on the first day of work but SOMEHOW getting the job to begin with.

I lived with them up until I was around 7 years old. It was hard living in such an unstable home, we didn't have money and when my 'dad' wasn't beating my mother he was tormenting me. He'd throw shit at me, badmouth my mother whenever he could, one time he broke my nose when I defended her good name like the child desperate to see the good in these people I was.

So that played itself out pretty agonizingly slowly, and should have ended many times but didn't. My personal favorite was when I caught my father in bed with another woman, told my mother about it(Obviously not sure what the hay was going on, but it was quite out of place even then) and got called a liar. Apparently I was trying to destroy their perfect lives together before I was 10, makes sense.

Anyway, this just drove a wedge between us further and I couldn't deal with it anymore, I begged my grandparents to try and help me live with them so I could escape those two and my mother was noticeably relieved when they got guardianship over me.

Still didn't stop sucking though, I was always having problems in school with my emotions and anger and bullies who would try their best to stir me up. I complied quite readily unfortunately, responding to words with violence in a way that now sickens me and reminds me of my father.

Always in detention or suspended from school, I was learning pretty much nothing and eventually the school put me in a Special Ed class with a literal drooling retard and some psychotic serial killer hopefuls. Stuck around in there for a few years, every day getting a little more jaded and hateful toward the school and everypony that tried to help me.

*cont*

>>2510688

Ugh, first one didn't go through and I had assumed it was lost but it popped up anyway. Then my second shot...well, this is a disaster.

Reading all of this spurred my interest and my response to this thread.

I suppose my problems started out earlier on. Like some ponies in this thread, I was socially awkward. Through middle school and High School I was the one the others always picked on. Sometimes even my friends made fun of me (In a cruel way). It was that and having ADD plus being diagnosed with a low level of asbergers syndrome that just made things difficult.

Although I took normal classes with the normal kids, I was also stuck in special education classes to help me with my school work. I made a close knit group of friends, maybe six or more through high school and early collage years. Looking back on it, that time was the best in my life.

During this time I really believed in the good in people, despite being picked on all the time. I also thought since I never had a real love interest or girlfriend that perhaps I was to meet somepony special, for them to love me as much as I love them.

It was during High School that I was introduced to computers and the internet, and me and my friends would hang out that way, have LAN parties, sleep overs, what have you. Going back with the socially awkward aspect, I got along with people somewhat easily on the internet, as I was able to type and be more forward and forthcoming, perhaps more attractive too, as I can communicate better writing or typing things down then speaking. It was here that I met my first real girlfriend, although it was a long distance relationship.

I lived in NY, and she lived in Louisiana at the time. I came from a well balanced family life, while she came from a broken home. Her father left her at an early age, her eldest sister was murdered in front of her; her second eldest brother and sister were druggies as well as abusive toward her. The only ones that did care were her youngest brother, her mother plus her local and internet friends.

I really felt for her, and the only way for me to help her was money wise. I sent her things every now and again to help her get out of the house and away from her abusive brother and sister for at least a day, or a weekend.

People said that she was just using me for my money, but I saw the good in her, and the need to get out of that house, even for a little bit that she desperately needed. I feared if I did nothing, and something happened to her, that I would never be able to forgive myself. I visited her as much as I could, twice every year for around an 8 year relationship.

I suppose I saw it coming but didn't acknowledge it when she started talking about another guy more and more. It was during one trip down to see her that she told me she was in love with somepony else. She was crying, and offered a free slap on my part, or to pay back all the money I spent on her to help (which was by then probably in the two grand range).

I just shook my head and went for a walk on my own. To my surprise however, she caught up with me, and while walking actually helped me get over with that brake up we just had. We currently are still very close friends, and talk every other week.

Perhaps feeling lonely or trying to find a space for the hole in my heart that was recently opened that I found another girl. She was younger then me, still in High School while I had graduated three years earlier. We immediately hit it off. We were both the outcasts in school if you will. Looked down on, teased, made fun of, ect.
cont...

In the course of one summer our relationship really heated up to the ones you always read about in romance novels. Or see about in movies. We dated for three years, in that time talking about living together, her coming up to go to one of the local collages in my area so we could be together. Even getting married and having children.

Everything was going along so well, and it was shortly after Christmas and New Years that everything just tumbled down around me. Partially it was my fault. I offered to pay for a gift that she had promised me, but didn't have enough money for it. A stupid argument in hindsight. Her mom found out, and got angry at me, saying that she didn't need my pity or help. (The two of them were also on their own, her father also leaving her. Same situation different relationship.)

It was then that her mother started to really influencing her. Pushing down and saying that we should brake up and see other people. That coupled with one of her 'friends' feeding her lies about myself and her for the chance to take her as his girlfriend himself.

Those two were the massive factors that lead to our brake up. Being so close to my heart, and having experienced so much with her; I just broke down. I didn't really eat, I didn't sleep. I tried going to work, but every time I heard a song that reminded me of her, I broke down into uncontrollable sobs.

I had to take off work for a month, get on medication, see a psychologist/ relationship counselor, put up barriers (take away my cell phone, my computers power plug and the main hard drive so it couldn't boot even if there was power to it).

Another year went by, and even though I was better, still didn't have a handle on myself. I lost my job of 7 years for stealing a bagel due to the medication I was on and its tendency to have me eat more, and effect my decision making. I tried a full time job, but due to my mental faculties still not being 100% was let go.

I was able to gain the computer and cell phone back, plus a part time job and perhaps my want of a relationship with her, plus the belief I had of finding my special somepony from when I was younger, allowed her to start talking to me again. I told her all about what happened, about what hell I had been through, mentally, psychically, and emotionally.

All over the phone, so she could hear my voice. And she cried. She cried and actually felt so ashamed about what she did. I guess I took a twisted pleasure because of her admitting her wrongs against me. Yet, after a half a year, the same thing happened, with the same people.

I suppose I should of listened to what my parents were telling me, and what my friends were telling me also. But they say that love blinds you. I kept giving her chances, perusing her and being persistent. Because I freaking loved her. It went like this, on and off, me gaining her back after some flank hole abused her and the trust she granted them.

I met her for a anime convention, and that didn't go so well. We were friends at the time, and she currently had one of the flankholes of a boyfriend. One of her protective friends told me to just avoid her the rest of the con because she was uncomfortable. I did just that, and tried my best to do some activities and have fun. I made a friend out of another of her friends, which I hung out with and her little brother instead. I did have fun.

When I was leaving, I saw her standing some way behind me, just looking at me, trying to avoid my gaze. It was later I learned that she wanted to apologize for what she had put me through during my stay there. And she realized what an flank-hat her current boyfriend was after he prevented her from going to the con dance.

A year later we got back together again, for a year this time, and things got, well physical in the good sense. There's a saying that you will never forget your first. And I have to agree with that. She had offered to start my dream of starting a family during that point. But I decided not to. My reasons were that I didn't have enough money to support myself. Let alone another extra person plus a child.

After experiencing some of that with my relatives on both sides of the family, I didn't want to bring them up into a world like that. Wondering where there mom or dad is, even though since both our families are Christian, they'd most likely have us married before the baby came. Anyway I just couldn't do that to her.

Again the same thing happened some time down the line. At this point perhaps the scars had thickened to the point that I didn't get hurt as much as I did the first two times. She still ends up somehow coming back to me, even if I don't hear form her for a year, or a long stretch of months.

During all of that, my close local friends either moved away for school, and work, from the east coast, central of the country and west coast. One just simply gave up and left because he didn't know how to handle or understand my immense heart brake at the time. The one I still do see, is always to busy with work to hang out, or take me out for a drink on my birthday.

The friends that I do have and talk to every day are long distance AIM chatters that I have made friends with over rp. They have helped me with my problems, and I do the best offer advice for theirs.

I suppose i coped with the help of friends and family. That I knew people loved and cared for me enough that I just didn't loose all hope. It also had to do with my own beliefs I suppose at the end. In an earlier and simpler time, I would of had a ring around her finger and a family of my own. That Chilvery is not dead. The belief of loving one pony, no matter how difficult that gets. That love somehow does conquer all.

I noticed this thread was started on my birthday. I just go a bit of a chuckle out of that. Anyway...

When I was about 8, my mom committed suicide. This was around the time where I was just old enough to understand what had actually happened and I was completely devastated. I missed a lot of school after that and my depression started up around that time too.

10 years later, I still have to deal with the depression, but it's definitely a lot easier now. During these 10 years I've had a lot of help. I had regular visits to psychiatrists/councilors (not sure if that's the correct spelling) for a couple years afterwards and I even attended a support group of people who had lost loved ones to suicide for quite a while as well.

I know things like that don't always sound appealing, and believe me when I say that I still cringe at the thought of them, but I can also say that they helped a lot. I don't know how much coping I would have been able to do on my own. I know some people do cope that way, and perhaps it's better for them, I'm just thankful that I didn't have too.

Depression doesn't go away, and I'll always have that feeling of devastation, but like I said, it's easier now. Time may not heal wounds completely, there is going to be some scar tissue left to close the hole. However, the hole will close eventually so that you can move on, and I encourage anypony going through something similar to find as much help as they can. Having a doctor for that wound makes it a lot easier to stitch up than doing it yourself.

The only people with the same interests as me IRL are a friend from school, my mom, and my step sister. Well, these are the only people I can have a full conversation with and tell anything. It gets awful lonely at times, and over my dad's I often sit in my room and go on my laptop the whole time. I mostly have conversation threw texting, and people on the internet make up most of my friends.

Wow people are still replying to the thread.

...

Long running deep seated problems. Mums manic depressive with a side plate of OCD (fun mix) courtesy of years of abuse as a child. Dad's a 25yr REME vet and 60% disabled, so I spent much of my life growing up hearing either crying and critisism/pessimism or screams of pain. Or all 3 for a particlaurly flavoursome day. I've been bullied throughout most my life for no great reason, I always felt as if i were the bigger man by not fighting back, even though i'm well within my means ( I do a lot of martial arts). I've failed at pretty much everything I've applied myself at bar the IT course I'm currently doing great on. Everything i've ever done starts great and finishes bad. My self esteem is at an all time 0, and the three freinds I had have now all moved to university. I have never felt more alone bronies.

>>2508604
Same here bro, exactly the same. I know it's not a new story, but I feel it's a common theme.

nice

When I was younger, my grades were getting worse and worse. I never cared about it, my father would always told me how disappointed he was and that education is important. I still didn't care and my grades were at an all time low.
One autumn evening, my father didn't come home from work. My mother got a call from the hospital, they told her he was diagnosed with cancer and that he probably wouldn't last for long. I remember visiting him in the hospital, I felt horrible for never really caring about him. In November, the same year. He fell asleep, only to never wake up again.

After he died, I decided to get a grip on my grades. So he could finally be proud of me. I came out with the highest grades in my school, and today I'm studying to become a lawyer. I still like to think that he would be proud of not only what I have accomplished, but also the man I am today.
So my advice is, you can accomplish anything.
If you just have the will and motivation.
Nothing is impossible.

Thanks to everypony here for sharing their stories.

To those who still feel some sorrow from their experience, start off the new year by being strong and use your misfortunes as your motivation or pointers for your future. Learn and you shall receive your wisdom. Happy New Year, everypony! I wish you all the best.

This is quite possibly the only note-worthy contribution i made to this site. And for it to still be here, it makes me feel im not completely useless.

I have changed a lot over my time here, and im still emotionally unstable , unfourtunately that emotion is generally anger. Its a pity as i would love to contribute by explaining how i dealt with issues (I think i did explain something way back in the thread but in all honesty, i also think i failed my own advice since) as im still working on it. But so long as this helped at least even one person , as a good friend here told me, than it was worth it after all. Thankyou everypony for contributing.

bump

I guess I feel too embarrassed to tell anypony I know in real life about how depressed I have become lately. I figure that people will just laugh at me, or tell me to suck it up, but knowing the Brony community, the members ability to care for each other, I know I wont be humiliated here. I admit I am not a die-hard fan of MLP:FiM, but I do hang out for the shows every week. One of the main reasons why I enjoy them so much is its one of the few things that truly puts a smile on my face. I've been dealing with this depression for quite a while, but since I've started year 12, I've been feeling a heavier weight down on me and it's beginning to get too hard to handle. I feel as though I can do better with myself, like become an A instead of being upset with my B's, but my lack of motivation and dedication pulls me away from such achievements, only feeding this depression of never getting anywhere in my life, and never accepting myself. I have no idea what I'm doing anymore, or whether I should even continue with anything, because in the end, nothing seems to be worth it.

never give up hope

You seemed like a very nice person.
But after that final display in /gala/.
You've lost all my respect.

>>2513775
This sounds so much like an experience I watched my roommate go through during year 12 that I feel like I was supposed to read your post. Sometimes, taking yourself apart is the best way to put together who exactly you are deep down. I went to a high school where we had to live in dorms, and I watched my roommate crash land from being one of the most studious to being unaware of what to do with himself. He couldn't bear the pressure of academia and moving onto a new phase in life. He made it to a great college and is doing well for himself, but he finds himself lonely, like many of us. I used to get straight A's until I got a mix of A's and B's, and in my previous semester in college I didn't even muster a 3.0. While I know I could have done better, I know that there are students with 4.0s who don't know a thing about the real world. There's an important distinction between theoretical knowledge (what you learn in school) and practical knowledge, and social knowledge. And judging by the fact that you knew to come here to talk to us, that's some practical knowledge in itself. =) Part of why I love MLP:FiM so much is because of the value of the lessons it learns. There are many people who get amazing grades and make tons of money, but don't know the lessons about treating people properly that you learn from everyday life--AND from MLP! I get by through being confident that while some around me in college know more about math and science than I do, I know about friendship and things that are more encompassing and applicable to the world at large. =)

went through hell, came out on the other side, dont wanna go into detail,

So this is the story so far.
I had gone out with this girl for a few months, then when i finally said that i loved her, she became hard to contact, she would'nt see me and she was always "busy" with school work. this went on for about a month and i got sick of it and decided to cut off the relationship. after two weeks, i forced myself not to think of her due to whenever i did i would get depressed and thats how it went until...

A few years passed and i had seen her at a party, we both said that we should meet up sometime, we eventually did, as i found out on that night that we met up, she still liked me, now this made me confused, i thought she stopped seeing me because i said i loved her and it was "too soon" -stupid idea.
Realizing that she still liked me was the greatest feeling i have ever had, the feeling that the ONLY person that i have ever truly loved was willing to give us another chance. I had loved her ever since i said so on the night years back, and now i allowed myself to feel that way again, it was great. After that night, every time i saw her all i could think about was saying something wrong and loosing her again, thus things got awkward, i decided to tell her how i truly felt about her and that i had loved her ever since that night years ago, then disaster struck on the day that i was going to tell her, she dumped me saying it was too awkward, heartbroken, i had no reply, we just walked our separate was and never spoke again. to this day i regret not speaking my mind sooner, letting it out and being myself. She is with another guy now and i think of her everyday, sometimes i get sad others i have fits of rage and lash out at the closest inanimate object. All in all don't over think things and be yourself, they will like you for who you are not what your trying to be.

omfg that felt so good to finally say that, thank you Kagamin for making this thread and thanks to all bronies for sharing your thoughts and stories, it really helps.

Lately, my anxiety has been taking its largest toll on me yet. Whenever I do things, I imagine what it looks like to everypony else, and I want to make sure that I act normal, so that no one gets the idea that I'm weird, or a creep. My mood constantly fluctuates. I'm usually happy for 2 weeks, then sad, and it repeats over and over.

I'm hated by a lot of our junior class (I'm a Sophmore), and I have to deal with constantly being called apony,and a bunch of other remarks. Even when I'm home, I can't relax, because I'm too busy thinking about what had gone on during the day, and what would happen the day after.

I am going to get straight to the problems I had here, because if I skirt around them then I won't end up saying anything. All my life I have had to deal with my chemical depression(It can only be helped with medication) which was only made worse during middle school when everypony was bullying me(It has to do with my sexuality, I am a male), I literally had one friend at the time and it was okay for awhile, both me and him formed a strong bond and we helped each other with our problems, but it didn't last, he had to move one day, I honestly don't remember why, but he did. About 3 weeks later my chemical depression kicked into overdrive and it only got worse when I became emotionally depressed. My medication was failing and I had no one to go to but my mom. She was worried about me, we planned to(and eventually did) move far away from there. The problem was we waited too long. I finally broke down in 2007, I became uncontrollably depressed and attempted suicide, I am only alive because my mom stopped me from stabbing myself. I had never seen her cry so hard, eventually I broke down in tears too and I could have sworn I was like that for hours. When I finally stopped crying I felt a little better, I had finally vented some of my bottled up emotions, but it didn't stop me from being hospitalized for 4 weeks. I remember crying for my mom to come back when she left me there. But things did get better thankfully. When I got out of there and on more powerful medication my mother and I moved to Florida. It was, and still is the best thing to ever happen to me. I started going to a new school, made tons of friends, and I smiled more than I think I ever did in my life during the first few weeks. Now I am happy as I can be, I have somepony special and a cute but stubborn dog(I think he learned it from me) and a close knit group of friends. I am actually smiling right now thinking about life right now, the point is, you never should give up because if you do then the best times of your life might never be in your grasp. I have put a picture of a puggle up for some reason I guess I can't avoid a puggles adorableness.

<3