NOTE:I am on depression mends and doing fine now:)* My parents don’t know this. They know that I have had suicidal thoughts, but they never really took it seriously. My dad was downstairs screaming, and I was up in my room crying my eyes out. I snuck into the bathroom so I could get a shower… to try to drown things out for a few precious minutes. But on the way to the shower, I remembered something. My dad always keeps his loaded pistol hidden under the bed in case of a robber or something. I frantically started to look for the gun. It would all be better if it was just over. If I didn’t have to deal with it. Thankfully, by GOD’S AMAZING GRACE, I couldn’t find it. A few months later, my depression was back. I had just started going to counseling, but I still felt like my life was out of control. So I got a safety pin. (I find it very ironic that they are called “safety” pins after this experience) I began to scratch at my right thigh with the pin. Yes, it hurt, but I could control it. I still have scars there that I see EVERYDAY. Even though I have overcome my depression, my past is like the scars on my leg. It’s not necessarily bleeding, but it still hurts.