I am only 20 years old, and have been living in the world of depression for most of my life. My father died in an accident when I was a baby, and my mother, brother and I moved away soon after that. We started over from scratch. We literally had nothing but the clothes on our backs. No place to stay, no friends, we were alone in the world.

My mother struggled to survive and as a result I ended up raising myself. We moved around a lot so I never really had any long-term friendships. I was never at a school longer than 2 years.

I didn't realize I had depression until I was in high school. At the age of 15, I felt 50 and was honestly ready to die. I felt I had lived long enough, and was tired of trying to fight for my life.

I came out to my friends and family when I was 16, and thought that was the end of my depression. I thought I was liberated and could get on with my life, but was sadly mistaken.

Things were fine, I was in a relationship, I was happy, traveling around the country, going to clubs and doing all the things I thought teen kids did. The problem was, when I wasn't happy or when things would get bad, I felt like a comet, whipped through space and thrown to the earth to be destroyed.

I began feeling isolated and alone. I could only be in a relationship for a short time before I would break it off. I didn't want to have to try and explain myself to anyone. How could I, when I didn't even really know what was going on?

I turned to drugs and alcohol, which was the worst thing I could have done. I thought I was so cool, being underage and going to all the bars, getting invited to all kinds of parties, hanging out with the socially elite, at such a young age. For once I felt accepted and felt like I belonged. The drugs I thought were helping me destroyed me a little more each day. I would go on binges for weeks, until I freaked out. The human body can't handle everything I was putting it through. I quit doing drugs but wanted to die even more.

I've had a number of unsuccessful suicide attempts, none of which anyone knew about. I am really good at keeping secrets and as I said my mother was never around, and didn't know anything was wrong.

I fight the destructive urges every day and struggle to keep my sanity. I haven’t had very good results from medications because I could never follow through with them.

It wasn't until just recently that I've been able to accept the person I am. In a new city where I don't really know anyone, I've started to confide my secret to others, and when I hear their stories, I realize I am not alone.

I now know this: you have to learn to love yourself and the gifts given to you, and know that you're never alone. And that's all I have to say about that.