*trigger warning*

I tried to kill myself a year ago. Pills in one hand, a phone in the other. I sat there waiting for a text from any of my emergency contacts. It was late, about 2 am, and I could hear my sister awake walking around the house. I looked at those purple pills, and for some reason I calmly placed those twelve pills back into their bottle. I remember having to wait a week until I could see my therapist once more, and during that week cutting had became a normal occurance. When I finally got to see my therapist I told her. Almost immediately. She began to cry, we had been seeing each other for over a year now, and over that I had grown an blossomed into a confident young woman and her seeing me break left sone part of her soul bare for the world to see. She soon called my mother in and they discussed the idea if hospitalization. My mother broke down into sobs and my therapist gave her a kind eyed look. Soon a hospital had been called and I was on my way towards a place I thought was horrid. Though while sitting in that hospital I honestly had some of the best times of my life. Kids like me were everyone around me and discussions were always open. I saw good in the world again and was on my way to recovery. Me and my therapist discovered some amazing coping mechanisms (most of which are quite odd), I was put on a medication, and throughout a years time I got to be able to see the beauty in pain.Now, this year hasn’t exactly been easy, I abused alchohol for some time, my boyfriend at the time broke up with me, and I was sexually assaulted. And for some reason I can still see the light at the end of the tunnel and joy can still sparkle in my eyes. I would have never believed it a year ago, but life can be wonderful, and it always gets better.