My story begins in my DNA. Every person in my family either suffers depression, bipolar or schitzophrenia. I like to call it my curse. My mum suffered it leading me to get taken away from her at age 2. She took heroin to numb it. That didnt help. I got given to my aunty who suffered social anxiety and she didnt know how to deal with me. She would yell and get angry over the tiniest things and expected me to know everything. I began biting myself until i bled because i missed my mum. At age 5 i got given to my nan. She suffers borderline bipolar. I love my nan but she can be a pain because we always misunderstand eachother. At 13 my depression got worse with highschool. Friends turned into bullies and i suffered from critisim and people calling me a freak and a 'gothic ****'. Yeah. Im goth but thats not why im depressed. I got hit and told i should go die by frequent stupid and ignorant people who didnt even know me. My art slowly began to show just how crazy the pressures of life was making me: id draw people ripping my heart out instead of the usual rainbow filled paintings id do. Sure the depression helped me progress in art but everything else i was begining to loose intrest in. As a result i suffered critisisim from teachers as well as myself. I began to try and drown myself in the bath. Numerous times i had cholked myself with electric cords. I started to cut myself and become utterly risky in everything i said and did. I became adicted to pain. I loved it. Eventually i had to go to aa phsychologist. I have stopped cutting and have stopped hating life. Im still rebellious but crazily happy. I came up with my own name for the depressed girl in my artworks as my inner nutty artist. Im happy im not as depressed as my goal is to sucseed in alot of things. Im sure i would have been dead now if i hadnt gotten help. I still get paranoid and stuff but i can find ways to cope.