When I was 17 years old, I called The Suicide Prevention Hotline. I dialed 1-800-273-8255 with sweat on my palms and shakiness in my voice. I patiently waited for the operator to answer.

Once someone did answer, I lost all knowledge of the English language. She repeated, "hello, are you there?" Reality came back to me as I said, "yes I am, I'm sorry."

We talked for about 45 minutes. I was asked "why do you think you don't belong here?" about 20 different times. I explained that I hated how I was living my life, how I was being treated, how I was not happy with who I am, and how I just couldn't handle the pain anymore.

I was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was 14 years old, which has an awful side effect of depression. Ever since I was 14 years old, I started to overthink everything. I started to irrationalize about events that didn't even make sense. I put a guard up to protect myself.

I never wanted to leave my house. I never wanted to hang out with anyone. I knew that I would be judged. All I wanted was to be alone. During those three years of being in a dark cave, I tried to end my own life more than ten times. I barely have any recollection of attempting. All I have are the emotional scars.

As I finished my conversation with the Suicide Prevention Hotline, the operator ended with "since you are under the age of 18, I am legally responsible to contact your legal guardians." I started shaking. So you're telling me that you have to tell my parents? I only called you because I trusted you with the biggest secret of my life and you want to tell the two people in the world that I want to keep that secret from?

"You have to tell my parents?" I asked as she proceeded to ask for my mom's number. I gave her my mom's number and I told her that I was tired and needed to go to sleep.

The next morning, my mom was crying while on the phone. She was off of the phone a few minutes after. The look in her eyes as she asked me why I wanted to leave so badly cut deeper than any wound I have ever had. I could see her heart breaking slowly but surely.

"You are my baby, why do you want to leave me?" That is all she had to say. I hugged her and knew that she needed me here with her. That is the day I decided that I needed to stop being selfish. I am wanted AND needed here.

In 2018, a few months before my 21st birthday party, I went to get a semicolon tattoo on my wrist. It is such a simple tattoo, but it tells years worth of stories.

Getting a semicolon tattoo is not "jumping on the bandwagon." Before you judge someone on their tattoo choice, think about what that tattoo could mean to them. My heart soars when I see someone with the same tattoo as me because I know that they could've ended their life at any time, but they decided to keep going. How could you not be beaming with joy thinking about that? Life is sacred.

Logic - 1-800-273-8255: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kb24RrHIbFk

We need you here.