My Summer - Kimberley Miranda

The best part of my summer was… nothing. Nothing good happened, it was mostly bad. Either it was already bad, or it turned bad. You see, this summer, I tried to commit suicide. A friend stopped me while I was minutes away from the attempt. He called the police on me, I was sent to an ambulance, and from there, a psychiatric ward. I was put on a 5150. For those who do not know what that is, it is an involuntary psychiatric hold. I must at least stay at the psychiatric ward for three days. But that doesn’t guarantee that I would be out of that place within those three days, it all depended on when I would get “better”.

In all honesty, I’m not all fixed up. I’m still “depressed” (as the psych ward likes to call it). People usually think that depressing is just being extremely sad, but it really isn’t, it’s much worse than that. When you’re depressed, it’s more difficult being happy. You have thoughts racing in your head, even multiple thoughts at a time. I felt completely empty most of the time, my emotion was blank. The things that used to make me happy back then, didn’t make me happy anymore. Worst of all, I was alone. I hated being alone. Always have, always will. I didn’t like the idea of bothering people about my problems, I didn’t want to annoy anyone. So, I bottled everything in- worst mistake ever.

Depression is underrated, loneliness is underrated. The thing is, I didn’t have good enough reasons to be depressed. I’m selfish. Many people out there would kill to have my life. I have parents who care about me (even though they don’t really show it). I get everything I ask for. Here’s the thing, money can’t buy you happiness, and if it does, it’s only for a short period of time. I don’t have any disabilities, I should be thankful. But I’m not, if anything, I just want to die. Shit, if anyone wants to take over my life- be my guest.

You know what’s even worse? The fact that things get worse before they get better. Once I got out of that psychiatric ward, everything was the same. Nothing happened, it was as if I never tried to kill myself in the first place. Still, to this day, I still have suicidal thoughts. Self-mutilation is not the answer, but it helps. It calms me down whenever I break down.

Don’t get me wrong, I’m trying to get better. I try not to cut myself, I try to be happy, I try to not think about death. A lot of people think that I’m just living my life happily, but they don’t know what’s going on. No one really does. There is not one person out there (that I’ve met) who understands everything that I’m going through.

Sometimes, I have to trick my brain into being “happy”. It’s not normal, I don’t know anyone else who does this, but it works. In reality, no one cares about you. They say they do, but they don’t. I don’t believe anyone. I’m not a gullible person.

So you wanna know how my summer was? It was crazy. I would never think I would end up where I am right now. I spent the majority of my summer doing things I wouldn’t normally do, just so I can get by. And to be honest, I wish my friend never called the cops on me.