The week I got diabetes I was nine years old. I had failed the third grade and was sad since my friends had left me and went on to the fourth grade. The symptoms had started from my high blood sugar. I was up all night using the bathroom and drinking everything in the house. I remember I would drink from the sink. I didn't tell my parents because I'm the type of person to suffer alone. One night my sister (Who is also a type one diabetic) Came over for dinner. I had told her what was going on and she knew it right away. She had faced the same thing when she was sixteen years old. She had checked my blood which was 436 and told me to eat dinner. After dinner, she checked it again and it just said high. Her and my mother rushed me to the hospital and there we waited. I remember the blinding lights as they tried to get the I.V in me. Ever since then I've been terrified of needles. My dad was away on a hunting trip and had to come back early. The doctors and my sister had to hold me down to give me a shot. Ever since then I've suffered from depression not only because of the illness but who everyone treats me with it. Just a week ago I asked my mom if I could have a Reese's cup the one that came ina pack of two. I told her she could have the other one and she called me fat and that diabetics should have that. I also can't sleep well at night because of my pump. and in fear of my future. will I have enough insulin? I get mad the people whos done something positive with their life like I'm weak and alone but I know that's not true. People suffer as I do and I want to help them feel better but how can I help them if I can't even help myself?