Born and lived in Central America. In poverty. Parents separated because my dad hit my mom, I would cry and beg them to stop, but I was just a background not worth noticing. My dad left us in a ship, my mom worked as a nurse but unfairly another woman took her job and we couldn’t afford for food, the little we could afford was for us, my mom did not want to eat. Her thin body made me feel sorrowful towards her, eventually she came to the US, overcame racism, found people who helped her although their kindness was not genuine. Got jobs and worked to support us. The day she left I begged her to not go, in the morning as I prepared to go to school, when I came back from school she was gone, I felt betrayed. My old sister and my other old sister had to raise me, along with my grandmother. But my older sister always fought with my other sister. My older sister was reckless and naïve, going to parties, in the sheets with any man. My mom almost got shot because of my older sister’s ex weeks before she left. Witnessing their fights reminded me of Mom’s and Dad’s fights, it just got even more intense, pulling their hair, breaking their nose, until one day my sister couldn’t take it anymore and she took her life, we were in the bank sending money to a cousin who was maltreated by her mom when we got the news of her death, I was exasperated they did not want me to see her just because I was 5. I sat on the couch, and 4 hours later the ambulance came, we prepared for the funeral which was paid by our aunt, but her kindness was also not genuine. I don’t know how I felt about this situation, happy she was gone because beat me up and even put a knife in front of my stomach, but no she wasn’t crazy, I was crazy the moment I told her “Do it” shouting loudly, begging her to stab me, with a smile on my face, she hesitated and laughed at how pathetic I looked on the ground, I was only 5 back then, but suicidal thoughts came, I’ve been suicidal ever since I had consciousness of the world, ever since I had memory. Or sad because she sometimes did my hair, washed my clothes, did my breakfast before school, picked me up, made me go out with her and socialize, made me laugh. When she died, my older sister did not stop her behavior, in fact she got even worse, she became my new torturer, I got beat up by her multiple times, emotionally hurt by her words, and that’s what hurt the most, her words. My grades were bad, I was in a private school because my mother wanted me to be in a good place, but we sometimes had delayed payments, and even worse I was bullied, when I had thought I made friends, I would often hear them talking from far away, saying “I don’t want to hang out with her.” my crush who made me feel happy just by looking at him, rejected me and made fun of me in front of the class, ever since then he was always in my country’s national anthem ( with changed lyrics ) expressing my hate towards him, cursing him like an opened dictionary. My teachers were not an exception, they bullied me too. I drank alcohol, I put a knife to my chest but cowardly did not give enough strength to stab me. My dad came back and he seemed to have changed. But I was wrong. He was still the same, he beat me and to make up for it he would buy me food, I loved food, which is why I accepted his apology, but I grew tired of it, the constant beating, the need of forgiveness when it’s clear there’s not genuine care, but guilt that you want to get rid of. I would hide in the closet until he was gone because he worked as a taxi driver, and every time I was upset I threw scissors at him. One day I couldn’t take it anymore so I went outside with a knife in my hands, it was raining, there was thunder, I asked God as I looked up in the sky to help me as my heart was aching It felt it was being sucked out by a vacuum, it felt it was going to bore a hole in my chest, ever since then I swore to love God, not by what the Catholics or Christians or others make God look, but by what Jewish people loved God, without an image, without a voice, just blind, Unconditional and infinite love. But before that I wished I had died before my sister, I was suicidal at a very young age and was angered that she died before I did, angered that she had the audacity to take her life away when I did not. Up until this day I still love God and I still have suicidal thoughts, I’ve been in medication for 5 years, no much progress made. I only started to receive medication when I moved to the US and reunited with my mother, after a school camp we had an argument and I took an acid, vomited and had to go for emergency room, the guilt ate me up for I had worried my mother and I had made God sad. I was sent in a helicopter to a hospital for children and had been anesthetized to have an apparatus with a camera look at my stomach and see if the acid made any damages, luckily I was alright. After that I still had my arguments with my mother, still wanted to die, still had no real friends, still my love for a boy was not reciprocated, the boy who I gave the teddy bear I got during Halloween as I stayed in the hospital for a week, it meant I survived it had a lot of meaning, but he was a manwhore. And I still woke up everyday with no will to live, with rare days I loved when the rain came remembering more stronger than ever my love for God. I met Jonathan a good boy who at first seemed to me a little obnoxious and just asked me to be his girlfriend when we met online and had only met me for 2 days I think, we dated for a few months, but this guy arrived and he seemed to understand my feelings, we would talk about our pain, our fears, our sorrow, we had so much common, he said we were one and the same. I left Jonathan for him, because my heart said “This is it, my ticket to happiness.” but he cheated on me, and never tried to take the blame our breakup, Jonathan noticed and received me with his arms wide opened, he accepted me as his girlfriend again even though I broke him. We have 1 year and perhaps 1 or 2 months now, my longest relationship, and my true lover. He changed, I haven’t changed so much. Last 2 weeks, I attempted to kill myself again, because of another argument with my mother, quarantine made me more alone than how I already was, so my mom wanted to adopt a small dog, I saw a dog that caught my attention, he was black and a puppy, a cute chihuahua. I felt a strong connection to this dog, I felt the need to give it a home so badly because in his eyes I saw a glimpse of hope, like in my eyes there was one too. But my mother said the dog was ugly because it was black, we made rules about what kind of dog it had to be. Small dog, no more than 2 years. She tried to make me adopt dogs that did not even stood to our expectations ( rules ), all because she wouldn’t give me the dog I wanted, was it really that hard to let me adopt the dog I wanted? I took 80 aspirin pills, vomited, and tried to sleep so I wouldn’t notice when I was going to be gone forever, but I couldn’t. I told my boyfriend and he told my mother, my mom took me to the hospital, the doctors said I would need a dialysis, and that I had acute renal failure, at then end I only needed water, I’ve been cleaning my body with water and I think I’m so much better now. I’m back to taking my medication which was cut because my medical was taken away and I got a private insurance instead. My mom took some health exams and she currently is in debt of more than 20 thousand dollars, along with the medical bill she would probably get from when I was hospitalized. She is injured so she cant work, only my step dad but the money is not enough. The guilt is eating me up because I messed up, I messed up again. My boyfriend is keeping me company, not physically because he lives in another state but he is almost always there for me, and I’m grateful God sent him to me. I love God but I make mistakes, if I do something wrong, God is the first the comes to mind, making me cry because I know I failed for maybe the three hundredth time, when we were on our way to the hospital I couldn’t breath nor hear, I thought that was the end, and that’s what I wanted, but as I looked up in the sky, seeing the crops, I thought life was beautiful in general. I asked God to let me live, to give me another chance when I knew I deserved no more, I breathed and gasped for air, fighting for my life until I finally got medical attention. My boyfriend waited for me, asked about me, requested others to pray for me, and I must say I’m lucky to have him, when I got out of the hospital I started to be more open, more loving, more affectionate, things that I never got from others, therefore I did not know how to share, and I’m happy with him. Guilt, trauma and other things may never leave me, but I’m willing to move forwards.