Too lazy to write a comprehensive paragraph, so random facts.

• I’m 21.
• Single by choice.
• I’m currently testing to see is I have MS or fibromyalgia. It’s been a long process.
• I am a hairdresser.
• My heritage is Swedish, Native American, English, and Japanese (the most strongly known, anyway).
• I’ve had over 35 piercings, but I have 30 now.
• I am winning a seven-year battle against anorexia and bulimia.

My dad committed suicide when I was seventeen. I’ve suffered from clinical depression since I was about nine (yes, and I did see a therapist for this until I was eighteen), and I will be the first to say it was the most fucking selfish and weak thing he’d ever done. I’ve faced suicide a few times myself and I feel quite prepared to stand by my view on it. There were times that other people’s love for me was the only thing that kept me grounded to reality. I’ve known what it’s like to feel like you’re nothing, or that the world would be a better place without me; I’ve known what it is to hate myself so fiercely that I thought that I truly deserved death. I’ve self-harmed, I’ve attempted to poison myself, and I’ve not eaten for two-weeks straight before. So please, argue with me about not understanding depression.

/rant