If you want to say I'm an attention-seeking bitch, you can. I know for a fact that I'm not in the real world so I honestly don't give a shit anymore. I've tried 3 times to kill myself. The first two, I pussied out, the third just failed. The first time I tried to kill myself I was going to cut my wrists in fifth grade. My cousin lived with me for a while and she was just so pretty and funny. She's like a supermodel, and I was stupid and ugly and mean. She and my brother would never make fun of me or anything terrible, but I felt bad by comparison seeing them have fun while I did things separately. One night I was especially sad and I went into my bathroom with an x-acto knife and practiced cutting myself on my hips where no one would see a scar. I cut a few times really deeply and was about to cut my wrists. I knew that it was either all or nothing; either i succeeded and died or no one ever found out. I had written a note and had it on the bathroom counter. I threw it in the trashcan, but the next day, my mom cleaned out my trashcan and found it. Luckily, I didn't write "I killed myself because..." so she thought it was a runaway note. She thought it was funny so she showed it to the family and they laughed. I had a huge knot in my stomach the whole time and I just wanted to cry. Just before I got in bed that night, my cousin came in my room and said, "I know that wasn't a runaway note, otherwise you wouldn't have left any money to anyone." I had no idea what to do except deny, deny, deny. She finally got frustrated and left. When she was leaving I heard her say under her breath, "...should've done it." The second time was pretty similar except my cousin had already moved out and I disposed of the note more properly. The last time was this year (in 10th grade) when I took a shitload of pills. I thought about it and figured pills were the best way to go, because I could look peaceful when my parents found me or something, and I could die in my sleep. I wrote a note to my parents saying that it wasn't their fault and that everyone has a time, and it was mine, and I died happy with what felt like a purpose. I got a whole bottle of advil pm and took it all. Maybe 50 pills. I thought that would do it since they were drowsy pills. The next morning my mom woke me up angrily. She was shaking me and yelling, "get your lazy ass out of bed!" I got up with a terrible headache. I was so tired and I could barely function. I got dressed terribly and went to school. On the way in the car all I thought was, "Would it have worked if I had taken one more pill. Just one more pill." I got to school and failed my Latin test, people kept saying how tired I looked and, normally I would have laughed and said, "If only you knew how tired I am" but this time I just nodded. I still constantly wonder: Just one more pill.