TW: Depression and everything that comes with it. Also this will probably be incoherent as fuuuuck.
2002. I was at my great grandmother's after being kicked out of my mother's house (got into it with her then boyfriend) and being kicked out of my grandmother's house (wouldn't supply her money for drugs). There I sat staying in my room 22 hours a day. Some of that time was spent playing video games. The rest was watching over my stuff so the rest of my family wouldn't still my shit.
Now in 2014, I am doing the same thing. This time though, I am back at my mother's house and I don't really have to worry about people stealing my stuff because people don't come around here.
Depression is nothing new to me. I was diagnosed at 13. The problem was my mother didn't give a fuck. It took a long time for me to realize that you can't just "think out" depression. You need to get help. By the time I figured that out though, it was too late. The money I did have coming in was going to paying my mother "rent".
Every since I had to move back with my mother, the suicidal thoughts have increased. Everyday I wake up, I wonder "what for?" Why do I need to keep going? I have no future. I can't get a job. If I do luck up on one, I will have no way of getting there. (My mother has two vehicles but one is reserved for her boyfriend for when his car breaks down and she needs to be somewhere). So really what's the fucking point? Am I going to do harm to myself? Shit, I don't know. Everyday is a mystery.
What can i do to help myself?