What A Day To Be Alive

Although I am learning to love my life now, I am not fully healed. The pain I went through for the past 2 years was excruciating. And you know, this shit takes time. A long time.

And what do we have after we've healed? Scars. We all have scars. To remind us of the pain we endured. To remind us of how weak we felt and how strong we really were. These scars remind us of the people who hurt us and the people who stayed by your side through it all.

Who was by my side? No one. And at the time, I thought it was shittiest feeling in the world. I had no one to turn to. In 2009, when it started, I had LM. She was on the phone with me as I lay on my bedroom floor crying. The pain was new and raw and uncomfortable. From there, it escalated. It was like a very slow car crash. I couldn't do anything to stop it. All I could was watch.

So, I am healing. And smiling. Why? Because life is short. And right now, I am so out of my element. I am so uncomfortable. But in a good way. If there's one thing I hate, it is change. I hate it because it means that I have to get used to things all over again. I'm a habitual person. I always have been.

But I'm starting fresh. And change is inevitable right now.

Like, I'm a whole different person than the person I was just yesterday. And last week. And last month. I change constantly because of current events, new changes, and new people. The last time I went to bed at 9 am was... never. The latest I went to bed before that was 6 am and that was middle school. Because of my skin color, I honestly did not know I had the physical ability to fucking blush.

Anyways, life is becoming good. Very slowly. I'm starting to see beauty in everything again. I'm beginning to love the things I lost interest in. And I'm beginning to care about and love myself again. Didn't think it would ever happen. After this past August, I never thought I'd be sitting here writing this.

I just never thought I'd be here, you know? When I was 13 and throwing tantrums around my house, I never thought I'd be here, writing a blog about my journey beyond depression, self-hate, friendship, family, and daily struggles.

But I'm here. I'm doing what I can with what I have. Although my past is my past, I will look back from time to time to remind myself how far I've come. I've come far. It feels good to finally say that.

PS: I'm almost positive that next week will give me a pure taste of hell. But I'll be alright. I'll smile. Because I survived.