Trigger Warning: Mention of self-harm and suicidal thoughts. Let’s skip to the part where we’re close friends – past the pleasantries and smiling faces. We’re in high school, sitting on the floor of my living room softly speaking about the realities of our lives. I would tell you about how I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. And that I felt safest with horses and my closest friends, but that neither had any power over my desire to self-harm or the way my thoughts wandered around the idea of taking my life, dragging toes, but always leaving the door open. Let’s skip to the part when things first turned.  At…