You don't understand.

"You don't understand." How many times have I said this? How many time have this been said? How many times have teenagers plead the case of, "You don't understand?" We, as teenagers, for some strange  reason, believe we are the only teenager on the planet, and that is why, "You don't understand." However, just for a moment, let's think. Does anybody truly understand anyone? You can't read somebody's mind.

"You don't understand," because you don't, you really don't. You don't understand why I used to be suicidal. You don't. Don't even pretend that you do. I am not bullied or harassed or anything you happen to be thinking of. I just believed I had a life not worth living.  Just when I think I find someone who understands, it turns out they don't. My best friend who went through depression and seems to be perfectly in-sync with me, didn't understand. He just assumed my problems were about boys, parents and school. Yes, those things were contributing factors, but that wasn't quite it. I couldn't explain it to him. The girl who cuts her own wrists because the sight of her own bloods allows her to breathe again. I thought she would understand. She didn't. She was more fascinated with what I did with my thoughts than what my thoughts actually were. Lastly, is the boy who I have know since, I don't know, maybe, forever. Let's just call him Robert. Robert and I against the world. Always has been and, hopefully, always will be. He recently told me he was gay. This didn't come to a big shock to me because he made it almost obvious his whole life. Still, he used to deny it, so when people called him gay, I told him he wasn't. So, I decided, to make him more comfortable about being gay, I decided to tell him my big secret. My big secret about my thoughts. He told me he understood because he used to be suicidal too, but I knew he would never truly understand. I may have let it go, but he made me realize the worst eight years of my life were over. I was over the hill and into the clear. Even if those were the worst eight years of my life, he was there for every step. I don't want to live in denial anymore, just like how I don't want Robert to either. I didn't "used to be" I am. I am suicidal, and I'm trying. I really am. But for now, if you do not understand this post just ignore it because "you don't understand." You probably never will either.