On April 24, 2010, I wrote my first suicide note.

As I'm writing this article, all I can hear is screaming in my head to stop writing.

I hear tears running down my mother's face as her heart breaks as she reads the raw words coming out of my heart.

I hear family members saying "Why didn't she tell us? Why didn't we know?"

I see my ex's mom showing him this article as he wonder's why I couldn't tell him all of this even after being together for 6 years.

I see my sister touch her tattoo that matches the one I have inked into my body as she get's ready to text me telling me that she loves me.

I see my boyfriend wishing he wasn't finding this all out in an article, but understanding that this is the easiest way for me to get the words out of my head.

And I see my best friend reading my words before she finds me to give me a hug and tell me that we're going to beat my depression.

This isn't going to be a typical article that is clearly structured and written, it's going to be scattered and all over the place because that's how the thoughts are inside my head. Final's are this week, and although I know I should be studying, all that has been on my mind since I was last at my parent's house is the notebook that contained the first suicide note I wrote.

April 24, 2010, I was a freshman in high school.

But as I read the words on those pages with tears running down my face, I was smacked in the face with a realization that the notebook I was reading out of didn't only contain the first suicide note that I wrote. But tucked and folded in this notebook were five other notes just like it. As I read each note in its entirety, I was forced to re-live every heartbreaking thing that had happened in the past. To see where the pages were different because my tears had touched them. Where the color was different because blood had moved from my wrists onto the paper. I felt all of those past emotions rush over me and I couldn't move. I've sat in a depression so deep over the past week that I feel like I can't breathe.

April 24, 2010, I wasn't eating.

I sat at the bar between my best friend and a guy she knew from class the other night when he said "You drink whiskey? I feel like that's what depressed people drink." before laughing because when I responded with "well I do have depression so I guess it fits." and he thought I was joking because I'm "too normal" and "too functional".

April 24, 2010, I wrote to my mom that I didn't want her to blame herself.

I like so many other's out there recently binged watched 13 Reasons Why before sitting in my room and crying because I saw myself in Hannah Baker. I saw my friends in Hannah Baker. And I cried even harder when her mom held her dead body telling her 'you're going to be okay' because I saw what could've been my own mother.

April 24, 2010, I wondered if it would hurt.

I recently spoke with a woman I've become 'friends' with who works at Barnes and Noble who told me that her brother hasn't been able to speak or even look at her in 11 years since he found her after her attempt.

April 24, 2010, I felt my tears run dry.

I walk around campus looking at everyone around me wondering if any of them ever feel the weight of the world upon their shoulders like I do. I wonder what kind of things would have to happen for them to realize that their friends are suffering, and just need to know they are loved.

April 24, 2010, I wondered if anyone would miss me.

I wonder if other people feel everything around them as deeply as I do. I wonder if they feel trapped inside their own skin. I wonder if they ever looked themselves in the mirror and hated what they saw looking back at them. I wonder if they ever felt what it's like to feel completely alone in the world. I wonder if during my lifetime mental illnesses like anxiety and depression will lose their stigma and my friends and family will be able to talk freely about their struggles without feeling like they are being judged. I wonder if in my lifetime I will be able to say "I suffer from anxiety and depression" and not be answered with, "No you don't. You're too functional."

I wonder if one day my mental health will be taken seriously.

On April 24, 2010, I wrote my first suicide note before counting the pills in my bathroom and wondering how many I would have to take so I would never wake up again. I can see where some of you are thinking I wrote this article for attention. That I wanted to share my thoughts so people would feel sorry for me. Those people are right. I did write this article for attention, but not for me. I wrote this article to give attention to the 121 people who took their own lives today. For the 44, 193 people who took their own lives last year.

As I sit in my apartment writing this article with tears running down my face, I pray for the day that those numbers will be next to zero. For the day that no one will feel as low as I have. For the day that we will no longer have to burry our loved ones after they felt they couldn't live anymore.

On April 24, 2017, I will be taking my final exams ending my fourth year of college knowing that it has been 7 years since I wrote my first suicide note. I would like to tell you that I stopped having those feelings like I had all of those years ago, but I can't because those thoughts are still plauging my heart. But what I can tell you is that I am still here, I am still fighting, and you are not alone in your struggles.

To all of you out there who are struggling and don't know if you can fight anymore, or you know someone who is struggling, I am here for you and I believe in you. Together we can beat this. Keep going, friend. I have your back.

If you, or someone you know is in need, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline at 1-800-273-TALK (8255) or contact the Crisis Text Line by texting TALK to 741-741.