Can life give up on me first?

I don't know why I'm crying right now. Do you know the feeling of your eyes feeling so big just because you cried for hours? Well that's me everyday. I just don't know anymore. What's life? Who am I? What am I still doing here? Am I this strong? Hiding 24/7 feels like a full-time job. Who can I talk to? How have my parents not noticed? Wearing hoodies all the time because its "Hot" outside, or is it because I'm hiding my scars? Why do I cry so much and never feel relief? I have so many suicidal notes I've written, and none help me release stress. I have a friend, she helps me out, but I feel like its not enough. One day I'm fine, and the other I'm dying inside. I just want to be able to shout "I'M NOT OKAY". I want my parents to help me, but I want them to understand me and not blame me or shout at me. I want a therapist or someone who can support me. I want to open up but I can't, I'm scared. Its as if I'm in a never ending horror movie. Everything seems so fake but so real. The panic of me not knowing what's happening is affecting me. All I say is "I don't know". I really don't know what life wants with me. Am I someones little puppet? Does cutting help me? I just want to cut and drown myself in my own blood. Sounds horrifying, but that's how I feel. I can't control my actions anymore. I get shouted at when I'm mean to my siblings, I get shouted at when I forget simple things, and I just shout because I want my parents to understand that this is their daughter right now. I want them to realize that I'm not okay and that I need help. I want them to understand me, and help me go through the pain. How do they not notice that a pack of blades is missing? How do they not realize all those nights I spend crying. How do they never find those bloody fabric pieces? How do they not realize that their daughter has changed? I love art, it calms me down. But I can create a portrait using a blade and my arm. My arm is not paper to cut, I know that. But its the only thing that helps me show my pain. Every time I cut, and leave scars, I draw over them with a pen, and show my parents my "Art". They were once teenagers, didn't they ever feel this? I just want to be alone all the time, doesn't that bother them? Are they this blind??? Either they are blind, or I'm extremely good at hiding all of this. I've tried suicide before, never succeeded because I felt like something stopped me. Is it too late to try it again? Is there a spot up in the sky waiting for me? Is someone waiting for me to die? Will I hurt anyone if I die? Do I have to give up on life, or can life give up on me first?