SUBMISSION NO.4

I made so many mistakes in tenth grade. We could begin with my terrifyingly new streak of getting B’s and C’s in classes. We could also mention the injuries and failures I felt throughout my track season. Or my messy relationships with both boyfriends and friends. I don’t feel like going all the way in-depth about any of these memories, because they all make me feel really sad. But I guess we can talk about how all of these problems seemed to build up in me, and the stubborn pride that I have which stops me from speaking to anyone about these problems.

 

This is the time in which all of my emotions seemed to suddenly slow down. It felt like swimming through quicksand and having no intention of getting out. All of my grades dropped as my passion in the classes quickly faded, every day just thinking the same thing, “What purpose is there in doing this?”. I would get up, go to class, go to practice, and go home. And that was my routine every day, and I had nothing else going for me. For moments, I would be able to push myself enough to apply myself for something, only to face rejection or failure later on. These developed into insecurities and embarrassments that I carried with me.

 

By my junior year, I was determined to fight off these horrible thoughts. My doctor was supporting me, telling me that it was all just mild depression and that it would go away with some stress-relieving meditation and mental health breaks. My friends were helpful, telling me that they were always just one phone call away. My family was understanding, saying that they hoped it would just all get better soon. And I was going to make sure that I continued to improve and never disappoint these people that I so deeply cared for.

 

But come winter break, something else happened. I’m not sure what, but my mood started to rapidly decline again. Everything felt wrong, and I felt like I didn’t belong to anything or anyone enough to stay existing on this Earth. I relapsed intensely, and it was miserable containing all of my feelings. Even though there were constantly people out there supporting me, I always thought, “Wouldn’t they feel burdened if you stressed them out even more with this?”. It got to the point where one night I left my house in a thin tank top and old shorts, carrying only my phone, and slowly walked up to the busy bridge hovering over a quiet but still deadly highway. Everything felt so unnatural at this point that I really thought that night would be the night I ended it all.

 

And then it happened, a slight sliver of reality smacking me away from the side of the bridge. My hands dialed my close friend’s number, and we ended up talking for what seemed like hours. I never told them the severity of that night, or how close I had gotten to having to say goodbye. They helped to save me from that doom, the cold and bitter night that I will never forget.

 

I am definitely still struggling every day, so much that sometimes I decide to skip school and stay home. But there’s nothing in me that is willing to completely give up anymore. There will always be a part of me hoping to stay strong and hoping to one day succeed enough so that I can grow up and become a braver and healthier person. It might not be soon, but I am definitely going to continue fighting for that glory, and when it comes, I will be thankful for not just my doctor, or my friends, or my family, but also to myself. I thank myself for being the person that I am, huge flaws and all because I am going to stay strong enough to continue fighting my battles and living through my depression.

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