'My depression first became noticeable when I was in the sixth grade, I was eleven. Lots of things happened at that time. I began public school after being homeschooled the previous two years. I made a fool of myself, writing a note to a boy, what I thought would be anonymously, and having another classmate deliver it. He was extremely angry at me the following day and proceeded to yell at me in front of the few students that were already in the room.
From then, I was hated by everyone in my classes. Halfway through the year or so, a new student transferred in. Somehow, we actually became sort-of friends. He made me see there was nothing wrong with me. For after that one day, I had begun hating myself. But through his kindness, I slowly began liking myself again. He even introduced me to another boy, that was also similar to he and I. So for a time, I suppose, I felt better. I gained a set of best friends in the following grade, we were nigh inseparable.
Eventually, the main friend moved away and the others and I drifted. When highschool began, I still hated my appearance. It took a bit, but I managed to convince my mother to let me dress as I wished.
That year, was when I met my first boyfriend. He was older than me. Three years. I didn't mind though. At the time, he embodied everything I wanted to be. He seemed to know so much about things I wanted to learn about too. That was why I was with him. Not for any real attraction..., he simply was everything I wanted to be. It might have been foolish, but he was also my first. I was only fourteen. Maybe I should have waited, but I had thought I loved him. Our actual relationship was anything but good. He wasn't stable mentally, and that added to my own. There's a large part of things between us and after we broke up for the final(?) time, that I simply cannot recall. Not even my best friend, has told me what exactly transpired. I know he and I hung out constantly during that time, but I have no recollection of what we did or what was said. I love that man as a brother. He has been there for me through much. I was with him when he got his first tattoo at nineteen or twenty. One of his parents had been against it, but he was of legal age, and it was a family representative tattoo.

During highschool I must have had a couple boyfriends, none I cared for the way I did my first. The one boy..., screwed me up rather badly, but he also introduced me into something I had a natural talent for. Tarot Cards. I believed in them strongly, along with many other pagan beliefs. My first had introduced me into much of paganism I had been unaware of. My old best friend from middle school, had introduced me to the idea of spirit guides though, his religious beliefs I am unsure of, he never really discussed it.
My last boyfriend in highschool, was probably my worst idea. I did it because he didn't know me. He was new to the school and the area itself. So I pursued him. Again, he wasn't stable, and neither was I at that time. It was my junior year, I wanted to drop out of school and just get my GED. I was tired of going to pointless classes, I wanted to get to college already so I could study what I wanted to and not what I didn't. I even tried to get into the sort-of fast track section of school, but my mother wouldn't sign the paper so I could.
It was in my junior year that things got noticeably bad again. I was self-harming, again. I was tired of all the bullshit that was highschool. I didn't just want out of school, I wanted out of life. For a long time, and with the more books I read, I had hated the world. The books didn't help. My head was filled with magic, swords, quests, beasts, and all manner of things that don't exist (anymore). I used to believe I was born for a reason. That everyone had a purpose. I even did Tarot readings for myself to try to determine if I was doing the right things. I had vowed to never give up. I was even behind the It Gets Better project.

After high school, I had applied to and gotten accepted at my first choice college. I took a seasonal job though, to help pay for everything. It was there I met another boyfriend. He was older than me, five years this time. He may have been older in age, but he was younger in other ways. He had no direction, I tried to help him gain that. Eventually, we moved in together. I put off college, to be with him. He claimed he loved me. I tried to help him, I really did. It was all I'd wanted to do. However..., being with him and the job I acquired after our seasonal job had ended, did much more harm than I had ever dreamed possible.
He would get angry at me for getting angry at my games. He said I was sad all the time, rather than depressed. And he blamed it on the music I listened to. One of my favorite bands had come out with a new CD and it was rather sad but it was hopeful as well. He blamed that CD for my feelings. Despite the fact that I'd felt that way since long before that CD and before I met him. When I was with him, I attempted suicide on three separate occasions. The first time, I hadn't really known what I was doing. Not enough anyway, to have properly done it. The second time however, I had been sure I had done it correctly. Waking up, had crushed me. I felt so much worse than before. The third try, I had been quite sure I had done it right. I still don't know how I survived.
After the first try, I think, I began to seek counseling and medication. It had been my boyfriend who pushed me to do it though, for the medication at least. The first medication, however, took away everything. He was happy with it, but I was not. He didn't see the problem with my being unable to feel. I couldn't even write because I couldn't feel anything. I don't know why I thought I had loved him. Or why he said he loved me. I can see now, we didn't feel for each other the way we should have. I only regret not realizing that sooner. Perhaps I wouldn't have made so many attempts...

The next person I dated, was non-binary. They were younger than I. I sought to help them out of a bad place and offered them residence with myself and roommate at the time. I grew to care for them and they me. I tried to help them too. But they weren't ready for my help or anyone's for that matter. It ended between us, after I had enough of tiptoeing around them. I stated how I truly felt and they opted to simply leave rather than better themself.

Now..., I am with an older man. He's a good eleven years older. I don't mind the difference of course. We both have our issues. The difference with him, is he actually wants to help me with mine. He even sort-of knows how to help. I try to talk with him, but I am not good at such things. I never have been. I write things best. I want him and I to work. I did, afterall, propose to him two and a half weeks prior. He accepted and wears the ring. It's not always easy between us. We are quite different even if we do share common things.
I am trying to do right by him. I still feel as I have since I was in sixth grade though. As I did when I was with my first boyfriend out of high school. I still feel that way. It has only worsened. I don't know what to do. I have ideas, biking, joining a gym to properly workout how I prefer. Playing card games weekly or bi-weekly with friends. I'm extremely passionate about two games in particular. I'm trying to teach him the one, but it is quite a bit to remember.

Since I was around nine or ten, I had discovered the first tattoo I desired for myself, which I still don't have. The first one I desired to get, however, was a dragon. As back when I had decided that, I had believed in spirit guides, and believed mine to be a dragon. So the tattoo would essentially be of him.
However the first tattoo I got, was from a book series I favored. A black chain, wrapped three times around my upper arm. I had gotten it because that was when I still believed in past lives and other such things. It symbolizes that I am bound to the Wheel of Time, my chains are strong and unbroken and I am doomed to continue to keep living over and over, for I am bound.
I used to believe I had a purpose and I couldn't die until it had been fulfilled. I even believed I saw difference in the coloration of my chain at certain times. If it was lighter, it meant I was getting closer to being free, but if it was darker, it meant I was bound tighter than ever.
The third tattoo I got on my upper neck. Quite visible. A phrase I used to believe in strongly, but anymore has no meaning. Ji'e'toh. Honor and obligation. I used to believe in that phrase. A difficult phrase to really explain the meaning of if one hasn't read the books from which it hails. It was supposed to solidify my reason. To make me wish to stay alive.
But none of my tattoos mean anything to me now. I don't believe in past lives. I don't believe in spirit guides. I don't believe in gods. I don't believe in Tarot Cards. I don't believe in magic.

Despite my depression and suicidal ideation, I am still trying. Some days are harder than others. I want to be with him, I truly do. He can actually give me a glimpse of what it's like to be happy. But day-to-day life is difficult. I don't know what can be done to make it easier. I know change takes time and I'm trying to change to keep him and have a life together. I should be doing this for myself, and there are some things I am doing for myself. Not much, but it's something. Right now, I'm living for him. Not myself. If I am being honest, I do not want to live. I don't know why really, other than that I hate this world and life. I used to believe strongly against it. I do think about the future some, but I'm more trying to get through the days as they occur.
I know he loves me. I know that. I am trying for him, not for myself. I know I need more reason than just him. But nothing I can come up with seems to be worth anything.
I used to be outspokenly pagan. I've lost all those beliefs though. I guess I may be an atheist again. It's not like my beliefs really fit with my scientific beliefs anyway. I never could understand how scientists could separate the two.
I suppose I would like to regain my old beliefs, to an extent at least. I don't want to not believe in my tattoos anymore, that is for sure. Even if that is all I regained, that would be enough, I think.

I don't know that I will. I understand things now though. I understand why people turn to alcohol or drugs or even both. It makes sense to me now. Not so much as how they could let those things consume them, but the basis of why.
I suppose it's as I've written in the past. I'm sitting at the edge, with my legs dangling over. It wouldn't take much to topple over. And it is tempting. Very tempting. Sometimes it seems logical. Rarely is it fueled by emotion. But I love him and do not wish him pain. He has dealt with far too much in his life already.'

Naruto set his pencil down, his hand was cramping from all the writing he had done. He had to speak with Itachi when he returned home. He only hoped words didn't fail him as they so often did. He wasn't sure what the outcome of their talk would be, but it needed to happen. He needed to be brutally honest about everything. Try to explain things he hasn't been able to in past conversations. Mostly, because he completely forgot about them, but also because he is unsure of how to word things when it comes to verbally discussing things. Nonetheless, he loves Itachi and knows this is for the best. It's what Itachi has been asking for, for them to truly talk. And so he will.