I'm Kate and I'm 16 years old. I've never shared my story before, so sharing this story is taking a lot out of me. Two years ago in May, I became depressed. It was just a lot of little things adding up and then the loss of my best friend really took the best out of me. She began her first serious relationship, and in doing so left me behind.

So anyways, that really tore me down. I was trying to get over it, but she kept changing and acting different so it really upset me. My mom and dad being alcoholics also took a toll on my self-esteem. I let everyone believe that I was alright, that I was going to be okay, and when I broke down crying I promised it was just a bad day. But inside I was dying, I felt like dying. I began cutting myself in spots that nobody could see, and when my old friend noticed a scar on my lower thigh she got the hint but didn't really care.

That summer was really tough on me. But at the end of it I was much stronger. I believed I could fight off the depression, and then in October when my friend's boyfriend broke up with her, she began cutting herself but she didn't hide it like I did. She told me straight-up, and she told everyone. She didn't hide it, and even though anyone who was suffering that would have to be majorly upset, she looked like she was doing it for attention. And people were giving her so much sympathy and care, and they never did for me. That brought me back in to my depressive bubble, but I promised as long as she was hurting me I wasn't going to cave and let her put me back into my depression and cutting. That didn't last, and on the very highest part of my thigh I cut. And from there on out, I would cut in that very same spot.

Today, after I have stopped cutting for a year and counting, I still have a deep scar that I think will be with me forever. Nonetheless, it is a sign of my weaknesses and strength that I am remembered of everyday. Even though I do not cut anymore, I am not better. I still suffer clinical depression and have attempted suicide twice, both by overdosing on drugs. I still drink alcohol and take drugs, and that I find very hard to admit to anyone, knowing it may become a problem. I still find it hard to look at things positively and talk to anyone about my problems, or let anyone know anything that is wrong with me. My parents think that I bet my depression and my new friends do not know that I am or ever was depressed.

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