Self-portrait taken by contributor Ro, an 18-year-old from a little village in the northeast of England. She suffers from recurring depression and psychosis.
About this photo: “Last year I fell in love with a tiny girl called Bethan, she was beautiful and lovely, and had been my best friend. However things changed when we got together, not our love, but on our first official night together she told me she was dying, of a disease called lupus, and she lead me on and on to believe it was true, with dates of her death that kept creeping closer. She told me of her attempted suicide and how she said I wasn’t enough to keep her alive as I stood outside the language classrooms in the Language corridor, propped up against the wall opposite the toilets. She genuinely said ‘I love you, but you’re just not enough to keep me alive, love is not enough.’
I loved her so much, more than I could explain, and even now I feel dead without her despite what she did, destroying me.
I was sad, so I hurt myself, all over, I attempted suicide and was diagnosed with severe depression. But then came the twist, the sick, vulgar irreversible catch, that?
Bethan had lied. She wasn’t dying, didn’t try and kill herself, she wasn’t even sick with Lupus, she just had Juvi arthritis, and she’d let me believe I’d be losing her, she watched me get sick, watched me cry, and spurred on the tears. She waited till I was really not well, shortening the time span I had left with her, and even when I left her a note of my attempted suicide, she didn’t own up.”