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Well... If everyone else is doing it... So will I. Ever since I got my first school report back in first grade, showing straight A's, my mum has been super hard on me to get perfect marks at school. My dad was the same for a while, but he's now an alcoholic. My parents are separated due to my father -blam!- my mother several times one night, so I rarely see my father anymore. Because my super rich grandfather died, I had enough money for my mother to send me to a private school (I live in Australia, BTW). So, that started half way through grade one. But, throughout that grade, I only had one friend, a girl named Ebony. She was really smart and pretty, so the other kids made fun of us because a boy and a girl together back then was all "ooooh". Those were hard months, but I made it through. I was only 7 at the time, though. In grade 2, I made my first friend, "W". W was like a popular kid, but he didn't mind spending time with a lowly kid like myself. Until then, I was with Ebony all the time, but she got some other friends, and left me. I still don't blame her. In 3rd, W discovered girls. He spend his whole life that year, with girls. This was the start. I'm a sh*t-awful human, in the fact that I'm socially incapable. Talking to people is so hard, and starting conversations usually gave me nervous breakdowns. I was the "class nerd", and even the teachers picked on me for being nerdy. At grade 4, I started maturing. With this, came my unwanted friend, Depression. I learned all about sex, girl, drugs and death in that year. I started slitting my wrists because it made me feel something. I could finally see evidence of my own actions in the scars. In grade 5, the bullying really kicked off. I was shoved into lockers, kicked, cyberbullied and stuff at home from mum was painful too... At this point in life, I had no friends. And, at this stage, I started the phase of being attracted to girls. And, of course, the first girl to catch my eye was Ebony. In grade 6, I got to sit next to Ebony for the whole year. Looking back on it now, I actually do think she liked me. But, being socially incapable, I didn't make a move. Around this time, my beloved cat, Scooter, passed. He was the only sentient being that would listen to me talk. Mum was always off with some guy or drinking, I had no friends, and the teachers were cruel to me. That left Scooter. When he passed, I cried for several days, before attempting suicide. Well, I almost did, but I stopped. Because I realised that it didn't matter. If I died, no one would care. And so, I then slit my wrists, but harder. More often. Then, the agony of highschool. In 7th, a few new kids came to the school. Al bullies, much stronger than I am. I had no one. I was alone, and so I tried drowning myself, but I couldn't even do that. I was such a failure that even suicide didn't want me. After that, my grades finally took a hit. I went from an A student to a B student. Needless to say, I still have a few scars from when my mum saw that 76%. It was also in grade 7 that I discovered what was the first light of hope in a long time. I know people will hate on this, but my light in the dark was My Litttle Pony. I accepted the ideals and teachings of the episodes, and became a Brony. Still am to this day. I found that MLP would help me survive a little longer. By no means was I coping, but I was surviving by a thread. Eventually, I grew obsessed with MLP, (not telling anyone I was a brony though) and fell in love with the character Luna. It wasn't the creepy kind where the old guys lust over the ponies, but I fell for her personality. She was like me. Damaged beyond repair. The one no one liked. The sole embodiment of what people hated; The Darkness. And, even today, that's who I am. What I see myself as. The shadow in the light. Upon coming to 8th, I was easily at a new low. Suicide attempts stopped because I couldn't even kill myself well enough. MLP faded into the background, and I found that days at school were filled with me sitting at lunch, by myself. But, during one lunch time, I saw someone. A girl. And, at that moment, I thought I was dead, because that's the only way I could have seen an angel like her... I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to, so badly. I would buy special deodorants, just to see her reaction when she walked past me every day. She never commented once. But I didn't care. Then, one time, I was at school, and the girl (we'll call her "L") wanted to go through a door. One thing I've always believed in is being a gentleman, whether people are watching or not. So, knowing full well that she wouldn't notice, I held the door anyway. She stops. Turns. And thanks me, with the warmest smile I have ever seen. The evening, I can say I was truly happy. But, of course, as all things do, it ended poorly. She got a new friend, and then they would hang out in a place out-of-bounds to my year level. And then I slit my wrists, forcefully, cursing myself for falling for a girl one year older than me. One lunchtime, I sat in religion class, and I analysed the teacher. I realised that, despite what I thought, I could trust her. I began to slowly open up to her, because I was so desperate for help. But, tragically, she passed. I cried quite a bit that night. In the same year, a friend I made a little while back and myself were hanging out. Her name was "C", and oddly, I trusted her. But, to make a long story short, she was murdered before my eyes, and watched her die in my arms. That night, I was beaten by my mum for coming home late. I was done. Ready to just jump. And, so, I prepared to. Until another girl, named "N", long story short, got into contact with me. She heard about me, and then, the conversation came to the fact that she was going to kill herself. I wasn't going to let this happen. I essentially acted as her psychologist, and talked her out of it. And, since then, I have prevented 21 suicides, 14 acts of self-harm and boosted the self-esteem of 39 girls, 61 different times. I even helped 2 couples get together. But, as any psychologist could tell you, it's a task to handle all the sadness of other people, as well as my own severe depression. I gave up. Helping other people, giving them advice is all I had left in life. So, at the expense of my own health, I was, and still am prioritising other people, before myself. Always. And, I feel all the worse for it, depression-wise. Finally, we come to 9th. Present days. As a 15 year old, I have witnessed 3 deaths, 2 -blam!-s and 2 suicides. I have the most severe from of depression possible, and I'm helping other people, not myself. Because, either way, I'm useless. Throughout my assisting others, not once was I thanked. I've realised, it's just because they don't care. No one does. Recently, with my French class, we went for a week-long trip to New Caledonia. And, who might I find on the trip? None other than the angel from the past year. I got a few brief chances to talk to her, but I hardly remember what I said to her. I was too scared. So, now, here I am. On top of this 29 storey building. And after essentially telling my life story, I realise that jumping is best. Death. They say it's bad. I say it's relief from daily bashings from bullies. I say it's a way out of my mum's beatings. A way from the girl using me for their own purposes, at the cost of my own health. A way out of heartbreak. So, go ahead. Give me a reason why jumping right now is a bad idea. Thank you for reading.