This whole thing is pretty scrambled/random, so you'll have to excuse me for jumping around and also let me preface this by saying yes, I sound like I've given up/refuse to try because that is the truth. I went through so many traumatizing events with the idea in my head "one day it'll get better", until eventually it became just as delusional as anything else I was thinking. At a certain point, I'm lying to myself, or maybe I'm not and it will get better 50-60 years down the road. I mean that's "one day", just really far away and of absolutely no use to me. Also, it only gets better due to recovery which means you can recover. I can't recover, that requires hope and hope requires positive things or at least blind faith. I don't have the latter and I for sure don't have the former. I'd say my life is filled with the opposite of positive things. A few examples shall we? Firstly, I just got out of a mental institution a little while back. When I turned myself into the ER, it was after I had tried to **** myself. I stopped in the middle and said to myself almost verbatim, "as bad as everything's been, why not just go to the nuthouse, it really can't be any worse". At the very least, I thought that if no progress came out of it at least I would have gotten a mini vacation. I was incredibly, almost catastrophically, wrong. The first hospital I went to seemed alright at first, but within five minutes I had a crazy woman standing outside of my window literally staring at me while she touched herself. Yeah, yeah, that might be too graphic, but its the truth. When they told me that there weren't any more beds left, I was actually relieved that I could get away from that place and that lady. I should have been alarmed by the fact that a sheriff had to come and bind me to a wheelchair with feet of heavy ass chains, but thanks to that crazy lady and my crazy life up until that point, I was good to go. The sheriff told me that the place was "supposed to be good, they send a lot of people up there". That was the first lie he told me and also the thing I kept repeating to myself the entire time I was in this hell of a hospital. The second lie he told me was that the chains he had wrapped me up in were just part of a mandatory procedure they have to do for everyone. To put this into context, I voluntarily checked myself in like I said earlier and was under the assumption that I could be held for no more than 3 days. I mean I was really just going for emergency medication anyway, I kind of wanted help. As soon as I arrived, I was informed that I would be held for no less than 7 days because I was an involuntary admission. I explained to her that I turned myself in and she then explained to me that since a sheriff from another county brought me to their county, crossing county lines, that I was now considered involuntary. As soon as she told me that, I knew. I knew that this was just going to be another thing to remind myself of as I'm trying to find the strength to end my life. Was I wrong? Nope. I've only been to this one hospital so I can't say how they all are, but I had this crazy idea in my mind before I went in that a mental institution was supposed to be for mental recovery. I'd say if anything it only robbed me of the little bit of sanity/hope I had left. I was the youngest patient there (in both of the wards I was in, I got transferred from the first) and apparently the only one who was there for attempted suicide. I had one guy who communicated directly with God telling me about how I shouldn't try and **** myself and that I have a messed up brain, lol, life right? The rest of the patients weren't any better. The woman across the hall from me would randomly start screaming and crying at night, which was pretty terrifying. I had the cliche Vietnam vet with PTSD whose speech was unintelligible, except for when he would yell out "you're all dying in your sleep tonight!" Another woman (and this wasn't her fault) had cerebral palsy and almost every time I looked over at her she was either having a stroke or was scarily rolling her eyes in the back of her head. Like I said, it wasn't her fault, but not to sound like a complete a******, I do have to say that that's the kind of stuff I didn't/don't need in my life. There was another woman who for some reason liked to talk to me, but of course none of the stuff she said was inspiring or uplifting cause I mean we are in a mental hospital. **TRIGGER WARNING** She bascially told me about why she was there: she had been in a wheelchair since birth and had also since birth been raped by every male in her family. Once again, yes I know that's graphic, but it is the terrible truth. The last person I'll mention was also the worst, even though she didn't mean to be. This woman, I'm not sure if she had schizophrenia or what, but the staff had given up on her and started ignoring her and as bad as I feel to admit I had to do the same thing. Sometimes she would talk to me like she might still be normal and then the rest of the time she would talk to me like she had the mind of a child, which was really weird because you didn't know if this was going to be the normal version of her you were about to talk to or the child-like version. For some reason, this woman had like immediately became attached to me almost literally considering the fact that she always sat right up against me, which of course wasn't allowed and kept getting me in trouble (also the reason I was moved to that second ward). She would also just stare at me. You know how hard it is to watch TV in a mental hospital? Well it's not as hard as trying to watch TV in a mental hospital while, out the corner of your eye, you can see someone staring at you for hours. Hours people. I literally had to stop looking up from the ground because every time I did, she would just be there staring. The thing is, after all of this, I was really still trying hard to put up with her because I seemed to make her happy and I also didn't have the heart to ask her to leave me alone considering I was the only one she talked to/would talk to her. I still remember trying to console her while she was hysterical about the fact that Satan was telling her daughter to do drugs and other bad things. As crazy as that sounds, she believed it with all of her heart and that's why it killed mine to have to sit there and watch such immense pain and not be able to do anything about it because this woman is just so far gone that I don't think anything could help her. What also kills me is that I know she's sitting in a group home somewhere right now and probably for the rest of her life because the doctors really couldn't help her. Probably the most depressing, soul crushing thing I've ever heard in my life came from her. There was one day where I had walked back to my room and was just chilling in there because mental hospital. Well when I walked out of my room she stops me and says, "are you mad at me? I'm sorry if I hurt you", Ironically, what she was saying at that exact moment was probably the most hurtful thing anyone's ever said to me spirit wise. This hit me so hard because first, it was out of nowhere, second, because if you knew the girl you would never expect something so "normal" to have come out of her mouth, and third, she really believed in her mind that she had hurt me terribly. Why? I don't know, but just looking in her eyes I wanted to cry because it was just so ****ing sad! (I'm tearing up now just thinking about it). I could write 1000s of paragraphs more about the rest of the bs that happened but I'll just end it there and save you guys the torment. I will however conclude with this story. Its kind of the reason why I was trying to off myself that day before I went to the ER on a Sunday. I had been trying to go "through with it" all weekend but I was too much of a baby to do it, so I tried to find a "person" (and I use that term as loosely as possible) to talk to. I'll admit me and that person didn't know each other at all, but they implored to help so it didn't matter. I told this person about what I had been going through and even told them about how I was so "cold and alone" and had wanted someone to talk to before I killed myself so maybe it wouldn't be so scary, but that nobody had cared up until this point enough to stop me from getting to this point so what was the use in caring that no one cared anymore. Even now I don't care about the fact that no one cares about me, whether I want to or not because you don't survive carrying around things like that in your chest. Now this next part of the story is my favorite because it not only illustrates how terrible most humans are, but also the reason why I lost hope. After I told this person the "cold and alone" thing, they reply back, in all capitals, with: omg no, you're a wonderful human being and I love you and I know that sounds corny but I mean it. Not only was it corny, it was also a bald-faced lie. So now they're telling me about how they're depressed too, but they "look for the good" and a bunch of other bs. The biggest bs was that they were sending (we were talking on twitter) multiple messages back to back. Now of course thats not the bs because I had no problem with someone finally paying me some attention and talking to me. The bs was that they told me that the reason behind this was because they wanted to "keep the conversation going". There wouldn't have been any problem with this if they really meant it. But of course I was stupid to believe that considering what I've experienced so really it was my fault for trying to connect to anyone at all. I replied to that lie of their's still stupidly believing it, but I got no reply for a couple of days so I just told them that I guess I understood why they wouldn't want to continue talking to me and that I didn't mean to bother them. To which they reply: "I thought I replied I swear!" So ok, easy mistake right? I can get that. What I didn't get was that after I replied to that, a couple more days went by, so I basically told them that it was ok if they backed out and that it wasn't like they owed me anything. Couple more days went by so I told them I could take a hint and I'd leave them alone. Well they reply to that and basicaly tell me "sorry I was drunk". It p***** me off a little bit, but I just let it go and tried to continue this conversation, which if you will remember started all because no one cared about me and I was pretty much being ignored. Did they reply to that? Nope, but at least this time it was for a good reason: they were high. At this point, I'm basically being really short with them and telling them that I would just go ahead and go find someone else to talk to (yeah right) about this because they clearly didn't understand. The thing that really made me hate this person's very life essensce was that they replied with "I do understand, I'm just bad at replying back to people, its my stigma". Their stigma. Their stigma outweighs, oh I don't know, making someone feel like they aren't complete dogs*** and maybe just possibly giving them a reason to not be found dead in a ditch somewhere? I guess so. Honestly I think if I were to get my name in the paper after my death, they would just glance over my name and it wouldn't stand out at all. I'd just be another poor unknown schmuck who gave up. Yeah, this is pretty long and irrelevant, but I refuse to take it to my deathbed and I don't have any real friends or family, so yeah. Also, after two hours of staring at this wall of depressing text, it has started to blend together so you'll have to excuse any mistakes.