My mom came and went in a flurry of shopping and visits to the hospital. If you've read this for some time, you've probably noticed that I've been pretty depressed for a while. While RF and I were in New York, I came to the conclusion that I needed to kill myself. I'd already looked into different methods and I decided that I'd do it when we got back. I was in a lot of pain in New York--physical and otherwise--and cried everywhere. He didn't notice.

After getting back though, I felt really guilty about the money and effort people had put into me going to school. Finals were just around the corner and I thought that if I passed, at least everyone wouldn't think that I was as big of a failure. So I did, and I felt better because I knew it was going to be done with soon. But then I didn't follow the plan and next thing I knew the quarter had started again. I thought maybe I was starting to feel better; I went into the quarter with a little hope that it wouldn't be so bad, but by the time the second week had rolled around I was feeling horrible again and missing school. When RF's mom flew in, I stopped going altogether. I guess I had also stopped eating; I didn't notice, but RF's mom mentioned something later on. When my mom got in, I could barely keep up the illusion of feeling semi-normal. RF suggested that I go see someone about my depression; I agreed to go the day after my mom left. I had a horrible night the night of the 10th; I didn't think I could make it to the end of the week, and asked RF to take me to the hospital the next day. He agreed. I kept changing my mind; he asked me to give him my car keys; I lied and told him they were in the room my mom was sleeping in and didn't want to wake her. They were in my bedroom. He asked me to promise him I wouldn't do anything before the morning; I was reluctant, but finally gave in, fully intending to break it. I thanked him for everything he'd done for me and said good night. I went to my room and wrote a note with instructions for some of my things; I knew this was the time to do it--do it then or go to the hosptial the next day. And my birthday was getting closer; when we were in New York, I set that as the deadline. I didn't want to make it to 21.

I don't know how I was able to not do it; I felt bad about lying to RF and I guess I hoped this might help. I stayed up until it was close to dawn, then fell asleep, exhausted, next to my laptop, my book about suicide, and the note. The next morning I woke up afraid and hid the note.