It was close to the end of my senior year when I died. Well died for eleven minutes eight seconds....at least that's what we're told by paramedics. Before we get into the story let me tell you a little about myself. I was 17 years old and not hanging out with a great group of people. I went from straight A college bound student to having a low c average. My life had taken a turn for the worse. I started doing drugs and self harming I felt alone in the world. I had friends. Noah was the closest. He understood me even when I didn't. He was always there for me until one day he just stopped talking and pushed me away. After that I looked for comfort in other friends but they did the same thing, and I just didn't understand. What had I done to lose everything? I asked myself the same question for weeks. Why? That's when I met Cayde. I knew he was trouble, but he accepted me with open arms. We hung out together and he accepted me when others didn't.
I was at Cayde's house one night when he pulled out the cocaine. I had never done drugs before but he pushed me and I tried. The high made me feel good. Different but good. I missed school the next day and just layed around Cayde's house drinking and getting high. My mom never called. She never texted. Never even tried to see if I was alive. That was expected why would she want to have to look at someone who reminded her daily of her dead husband? As day's passed I just slowly quit talking. Nobody seemed to notice. I felt like I was cutting myself off from society. I continuously got more depressed and began cutting deeper than I ever had before. I didn't even bother hiding the fresh wounds any more. I felt like it was a call for help, I hated myself and NEEDED help, but no one would offer it.