I sat in the corner of my bedroom with my back against the warm light blue walls, it was a sunny afternoon that seemed like it would be a great day to any ordinary person. I can remember the night having the wall feel cold against my skin, contemplating the same thing I am now. Take your life, says my conscious. What was I waiting for? I had a bottle of iron pills right in front of me. Was I waiting for someone to come and rescue me?

Like most high school students, depression has sky rocketed compared to the last century. The pressures to exceed in school has become greater than before, the admissions office has become more fierce and competitive than ever, and the need to be accepted has become a new way of living and breathing for teens around the world. The pressures for teens to morph to societal standards has been publisized with the rising advertisements on social media about plastic surgery. You’ll fit in if you have bigger lips, you’ll be more beautiful if you were smaller, says society. At the age of 15, I was a total wreck with what felt like the weight of the world on my shoulder.

Each day passing I felt that I couldn’t go on any longer. I was being harassed and bullied at my new school. Girls talked s*** about me, pushed me in the hallways, cornered me, and threw things at me. I couldn’t believe the horror of my life, from being a social butterfly to becoming stuck in a deep hole of depression. Some days I would run home, other days I would hide in my closet and pretend that my life wasn’t my life.

I sat staring straight ahead of me. I was wrapped like a burrito in my blanket, I would google things about how to cure depression, none of it worked for me. Journaling, listening to music, joining programs, it was all failing to pull me out of this deep pit. I didn’t have a choice anymore. I had to end it, I had to take my life.