Letters Anonymous is an online platform for people to submit their letters anonymously. Because everyone has a letter to write.
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A Person Who Used To Be Here

Dear... A Person Who Used To Be Here

 

 I take a lot of prescribed anti-depressants and anti-psychotics (and various other mental-illness-related meds). I have been diagnosed with multiple mental illnesses and been in and out of the psych ward and other mental institutions for most of the past years. I've had multiple suicide attempts and overall have been miserable for a while. 


I'm just a kid. I'm quite young, and while they've run tests and always said I was a "special case" because my IQ is so high and my academics are soaring, and I'm so articulate and cooperative and "It's such a rare case because you have so many illnesses yet you're really really smart etc etc etc". I hate being told that I'm special. I hate that I was locked up in mental hospitals for almost a full year so they could study me and experiment on me with new kinds of medications, because no matter what, my illnesses simply weren't getting better. I hate that I'm some sort of lab rat and I just want to be normal. i want to be stable. 


It's getting worse. I can't keep myself in control anymore. These days are so blurred, I can't think straight. I have chronic pain coursing up and down my body every second of every day. My mind is starting to collapse. Everything is so painful, I'm vomiting and feverish and seeing things. And they are still making me go to a hospital program because I have the potential, I have such a great mind. 


The worst part is, the more unstable my mind gets, the more I end up fighting for control. My PTSD is getting worse, my suicidal issues are getting worse, my hallucinations are getting worse. And I can't tell anyone anymore because I know that if I told anyone they'd lock me up again to study me and fix me and put me on so many drugs that I can't feel anything anymore. The Psych ward they sent me to was hell. I was assaulted and forced to fight and survive by my own means. Staff sexually assaulted me and other patients. The blood and the fights were too much, it was like being locked up in a cage with wild animals. They had criminals and murderers and rapists in there, and I was there too but that was only because they wanted to study me. So I can't tell anybody that I'm slipping, or they'll send me back. 

Yesterday I tried to overdose on multiple medications.  

I feel really sick but I wasn't able to take enough to cause the chemical reactions that would lead to my death. 

I'm so sorry. I'm hanging on for you because I know you're out there and I don't want to leave you like the others did. I promised to you, back in the garden, that I would stay alive for you. In a way, it's good that my overdose failed (and that no adults found out and sent me to the hospital). I want you to be happy. 

I miss you more than you know. I wish you could be here with me. I want to go back to the garden and cry, for you and for me, and for the last day I saw you. We promised we'd see each other again, but you left. You left for the stars and you never came back. I hope you're watching me from up there. 

The day you passed, the article I read, I was sobbing my heart out. And nobody else knew you except me, so I couldn't even tell my family. Sometimes I feel like there's traces of you everywhere, walking alongside me. Maybe there is. Maybe we can still make it through this together, even if you're only alive in my dreams now. 

We got a fish a few days ago. The first pet I've ever had. I remember how you liked to watch the fish in the bookstore, how you drew them everyday. I will draw this new fish for you, so that you know I'm still thinking of you. 

I'll make it for you. I'll stay here for you. I love you.

From... me