for the first half of my life I just suffered the majority of the time, I was abused everyday I went home, listening to yelling and fighting, I could escape sometimes going to my grandmas and spending Time on the internet .. I was not depressed, because i looked forward to talking to my friends, and spending time doing what I loved (art), but the entire second half was me realizing everything that I've went through, I became self aware, I became immediately suicidal after I turned eleven. I lived a while in this state, and I started to understand my purpose now is to die, nothing I truly ever do matters from this point on. I have come to suspect my life purpose was to be abused and thrown away, now all I am is a useless shell, and life after this is futile. since then I have only thought about death, I have meaninglessly dragged my life on with pathetic reasons why I shouldn't yet, but all I've experienced since then only proved my initial realization.