I'm not depressed, I'm just not happy. That's what I was telling myself. I refused to believe I had any mental illnesses, even when my friends tried to break down my walls to see the real me. These feelings really started when I realized how hopelessly lonely I was; I felt like there was no one who cared about me, that no one would ever love me or think I was attractive. As loneliness consumed every part of my mind I started thinking that it was because of who, or what, I was. So I slowly decreased how much I was eating per day and tried to change my personality. I did it periodically to the point where my close friends wouldn't see until it was too late. At least once a week I would consider suicide, and, only once, I had the method within my grasp before I fell to the floor sobbing. The day after I almost left this planet, I went to school and had to pretend everything was fine, like I didn't want to end my own life every waking second of every day. Still each day I would try to eat less and less until someone found me to be attractive; even if it was an infinitesimal amount, he still was attracted by something about me. He said he cared about me, I couldn't kill myself when I knew someone may actually care about me, nor could I attempt to starve myself. My parents told me they cared about me "more than anything", I just couldn't believe them. I still had suicide idealization while dating this guy, but I just hid it and would tell him I was filled to the brim with joy. I would still look at the mirror and dry-heave from the image of my fat useless self, but I'd just suck it up and act as if I believed him when he told me I was the "eighth wonder of the new world". And it's not like I was overweight, at the time I weighed 125 and was 5'7"; I just really hated my body. When my parents told us we needed to break up because of the age difference (two years), I truly believed they hated me almost as much as I hated myself. The next week at school we were still technically dating, but he didn't hold my hand anymore and he distanced himself from me just enough for it to hurt. I knew it was a matter of time before he broke up with me, but I think the fact that he didn't do it in person and that he claimed to still have feelings for me made it much worse. Also, it was a week after he came to my house and saw my natural habitat, two weeks after Valentine's day, and less than a week before our two-month anniversary. I realized that at that point, no one really cared about me anymore, considering I had doubts that he cared for me in the first place, I could go back onto my journey of starvation and eventual death. But I couldn't just jump back into my downward spiral, my friends would think it was because of him and most likely kill him; also I was in serious denial and didn't tell most of them. Luckily lent was just around the corner, so when I stopped eating lunch, I had an excuse. My friends were still upset that I wasn't eating but I really didn't care until lent ended and they threatened me with starving themselves if I didn't eat. I still didn't believe they cared about me, but I loved them as much as I hated myself, which is considerably intense but that's beside the point. My ex and I were still friends, he was actually one of my best friends, and he was one of the people who threatened me; I still believed that I loved him so I would eat a few carrots for lunch each day. Every once in a while he would still press his leg against mine, at one point he held my hand in class, which just caused more denial in the idea that we were no longer. Once everyone eventually did find out, I realized this sad miserable thing I was living was my life. One day, one of my closest friends came up to me and told me she knew I had depression and anorexia. I was offended because I refused to admit to myself either of those things; looking back I can admit I had, or maybe still have depression, but I will never say I had anorexia. There were a few people on my side, saying I didn't have to eat if I didn't want to, but then everyone else forced me to. On the last day of school, I was planning on telling my ex I still loved him, but with everything that happened that day, I knew he'd just reject me and laugh or maybe just be freaked out and possibly insulted that a thing like me would ever make an attempt for his heart. Loneliness had consumed me; everything that I did wished he was by my side. We used to talk every day, but suddenly he stopped returning my messages and cut me off completely. On the second week of summer, I went to a life-changing camp. On the car ride there, I decided to not eat at all while I was there; but when the car was swarmed by campers cheering, I knew I would fail, again. Everything that happened at camp made me realize I deserve to be on Earth, and that I'm actually a little beautiful. I'm finally getting over my ex, I still have mild depression, but I am eating and, for the first time in my life, fine.