I love you but you don’t understand me, and that is sometimes so very difficult. You don’t understand that I am desperate to live and make the absolute most of my life or why every day is a gift to me now. After being so depressed and hopeless, being in such a dark place that the only way I thought I could cope was to die. To feel that so intensely, to wake up and feel disappointed that I have woken up yet again day after day, it hurt so much that i could no longer go on, the only thing I wanted was to not feel so much pain all the time, so I tried, twice. Both times, I think I really did want to die, I wanted to escape from feeling so horrible all the time. Now, Years later, I still struggle with anxiety, depression and BPD but the fact that I am still here to experience all the positive things my life has to offer is a miracle to me. I feel the sun on my skin, the breeze through my hair & I feel blessed that I am able to experience these feelings- when years ago I believed so strongly that nothing was worth living for any more. Now when I am happy, it’s so much more beautiful, when I see a colourful sunset or the streetlights twinkling through a raindrop spattered window, I am deeply grateful for the moment, and that I failed to kill myself. In a way, I hope that you won’t ever understand just how precious this life is, because part of me knows that the level of appreciation I have for my days on this earth comes from the hell of suicidal depression that I lived through for so long. Without those darkest of times, I wouldn’t be able to see the beauty that I am able to see today.