The summer before I turned 16, on a particular weekend night when I had the house to myself, I decided to take my own life. I had been planning it for almost two years, writing and rewriting the letter I would leave. But that night, the decision to do it was no longer well planned; it felt more like it was something I needed to get over with. So I didn't leave a letter, and I proceeded to take a cocktail of saved-up antidepressants and a bottle of aspirin, and I assumed it would be the end.

I laid in bed and reflected on all the people I knew would be hurt by my actions, but it felt like it was too late. I felt like I was doing them a favor.

I kept my suicide attempt a secret for three years. My body rejected the pills, and I threw up for most of the night, and I felt like hell in the days that followed, but I kept as composed as possible. I didn't feel lucky to be alive. I felt like a failure, and I couldn't let this be known. I felt completely alone in this. I didn't even tell my therapist, whom I was seeing on a weekly basis.

In September 2015, I gave a speech in my public speaking class about suicide rates among college kids, and in it, without totally meaning to, I revealed my own attempt. In the days that followed, I opened up to my family and friends about it via social media, phone calls and text messages. I was tired of carrying the weight of the secret alone.

It is difficult for me to think about 15-year-old me taking my life into my own hands, thinking I could play God, thinking I would be doing a favor for the people who love me so much by dying. At 15, I hadn't experienced much of anything, and at almost 20, I can say the same thing, I still have so much to look forward to.

Today is the four-year anniversary of my suicide attempt, and all I can feel is an overwhelming sense of luck. I am reaching 20 within the next couple of months. I am in the college of my dreams, living with some of my closest friends.

Life is far from perfect, but I am glad to be here.

I am glad Odyssey provides a platform where I am able to write about this and reach out to people.

You are not alone, and you are so very loved.

Nothing is shameful in reaching out for help, and as a society, we should stop acting like going to therapy, a counselor or talking about suicide makes you crazy. It is far more common then you think.

1(800) 273-8255 is the National Suicide Hotline and it open every day of the year.

IMAlive.org is an online resource where you can talk to someone online.

Call 911 if you think you are in immediate danger.