When I was a little kid I used to talk to God in the mirror. One day he told me what was going to come as I became a teenager. I stopped talking to Him immediately after that.
Well, when I was about in the seventh grade I was told by a not so nice guy that my breath smelled. It may not seem like a major disease but it does have a social stigma attached and I began to feel very sorry for myself. I became severely depressed that I was offending people with my breath and I thought no one would like me especially girls, which is hard to accept for any teenage boy entering puberty. I thought all of my friends would start to not want to talk to me and not like me anymore. I became very lonely and withdrew from everybody that I knew, except during sports activities. I hated group activities in class when I had to speak to someone face to face. I especially hated talking to girls b/c I was afraid one might be like "eww your breath stinks" which would embarass me beyond repair. Eventually I started having recurring thoughts about jumping off the roof of my house and I didn't know why. I didn't know what depression was until I got a little older.
My grades suffered, except during the spring time when my attitude would brighten up just enough to turn D's and F's into high C's. I never had a social life and people wondered why I was so quiet, which was shocking to me b/c why would they want to smell my breath all day? The thoughts became worse and pretty much a daily thing. I hated everything about life, especially people. I couldn't see through the depression the number of true friends that I really had and the opportunities with girls that I was missing. No one EVER stopped being my friend b/c of my own self-pity or halitosis and I never understood why. High school was like four of the worst years of my life.
Fast forward to several years later, November of 1996 to be exact. I had my first suicide attempt. It was about a week before Thanksgiving and two weeks before my 20th birthday. The next day I tried again to no avail. I tried again a couple of years later and yet I survived again. I didn't go to counseling b/c I didn't want to get better enough to try it. I just wanted to die, or so I thought.
I could feel God's presence almost everyday. It's like I was talking straight to Him when I woke up and my first thought was "I want to die". It's like I was mad at Him for giving me this disease when
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