It was a Saturday night. I'd been getting worse and worse on the Prozac, but I didn't want to upset my parents, so I didn't say anything. I resorted to hiding in the bathroom while I was babysitting my siblings, Lisa and Paul, and cutting my arms. In that bathroom, I was so close to just trying to kill myself with the razor. Then I remembered. Lisa and Paul would be alone downstairs. They'd kill each other. So I threw it away and waited for my mom and dad to come home.

But I began planning. I could shoot myself! That was my idea. It was then I called a suicide hotline. And mom and dad came home. They took the phone. And thus, I was shipped off to the ER.