Something needs to change.

I know what it's like to want to die. And not in the way that you think you want to die when you say something embarrassing in front of a bunch of people. To really, truly wish that you were dead.
Depression is real. It's frustrating. It's debilitating. And it's terrifying. When the only thing you can do is sleep because there is literally no way that you can make yourself get out of bed. And all you do when you are awake is cry because you feel so helpless and lost and sad about everything and nothing ever gets better. When you're sad all the time and you don't know why. You feel like there is no one in the whole world that cares about you and you secretly wish for someone to come save you, but at the same time all you want is to be alone. Because it's hard to cry in front of people every time you try to leave your bed and go outside.
Everyone tells you to "Just be happy" and you wish desperately that you could, that it were really that easy. They say that you need to keep busy and find a hobby or something to occupy your mind, but it's hard to even find a purpose to stay alive. In your mind, there is nothing left to live for. This is your life now and you can't wait for it to be over.
During the spring of 2013, that was me. It was my life. I felt as if I had no purpose, I had no friends, and I absolutely had nothing left to live for. I quit going to my classes, because I physically could not make myself get out of bed and face the world. I stopped eating and I started cutting. And I didn't even hide my cuts. Because I didn't care anymore.
After trying for so long to fight a losing battle, I finally told someone what I was feeling. I went to counseling, and it was awful. I hated every session. Nothing got better. I dropped out of school and moved home where my mom took me to see a doctor. I felt like I had lost. I couldn't do it on my own. It was hard when people would ask if I was done with school and the only honestly answer was that I had dropped out. I was ashamed. The doctor put me on a bunch of medication and said it would start working in a month. She also made me promise that I wouldn't cut again. All I had to do was hang on until then. In the meantime, all I wanted to do was sleep and cry.
A month later, nothing felt better. I still had no purpose. I felt lost and alone. And that's how I wanted it. I wanted to be alone. When I went back to the doctor, she asked how I was doing and if I had self-harmed again. I looked at the floor and told her that I had. She gave me the biggest hug and I cried. It was strange, but a hug from a complete stranger was exactly what I needed. I felt so loved. I felt like she actually cared if I got better.
The last year has been hard. I didn't magically get better by taking medicine. I didn't get better by being with my friends and people that care about me. I don't even know if I can really say that I'm "better". I have had so many hard days where I've gone back to cutting. I've stayed in bed for days on end. I've cried more than I can account for. But I can say that things have been better since I got help. Since I spoke up and admitted that I wasn't okay and that I couldn't do it on my own. And I'm proud to say that I no longer need my medication. I feel like I actually have a purpose in life and I have never been happier. I have been through hell and back and I can tell you that IT DOES GET BETTER. It won't be the same road for everyone, but it's possible. And it takes a long time. It feels like forever.
It breaks my heart that depression isn't taken seriously. Whenever people would ask what was wrong with me, I actually felt dumb telling them that I had depression, like they would think I would just making it up. But depression is serious, and anyone can have it. Just like anyone can have cancer, or eczema, or a sore throat. It doesn't have to be someone who keeps to themselves all the time and likes Edgar Allen Poe. It can be the friendliest, outwardly-happiest, most involved person you know. And that's what makes it so hard.
It's weird for me, putting all of this out there, but there are so many people who suffer from depression and I think it's so important for us to talk about. If telling my story can help even one person decide to get help or tell someone, it's worth it. I don't want to lose one more person to suicide. It's not okay. I don't care if everyone in the world knows I have depression. It doesn't need to be a secret. Because I'm not ashamed.

August 1.

This is my inspiration today.

"People are capable, at any 
time in their lives, of doing 
what they dream of."

 - Paulo Coelho, Alchemist