Seventeen. A number I never thought I'd hate. My age, the year I graduate. You think it'd be great, right? Wrong. Seventeen years old was the age where I had to face recovery. It was the age I had to redefine who I was because I became so lost in something I was not.
At seventeen, you're supposed to be picking out prom dresses and hanging out with your friends and going on dates with cute boys who you might marry one day, but me... I'm seventeen at war with my mind. I'm going to a counselor for my mom and dad's divorce. I'm being unexpectedly taken to a psychiatrist for my mental state of mind. I'm failing, at seventeen.
Your teenage years are about learning who you are and I for one, have no idea who I am. I know I'm not alone. There are others like me. Good, struggling with evil. Struggling with the inevitable. Lost. They are everywhere, battling it out every day trying to succeed. Trying to get somwhere.
At this moment, I feel helpless. I feel like I'm never going to find who I am, I'll remain bones inside a human body with a beating heart and a functioning brain. Don't get me wrong, I'm capabale of feeling. I feel a lot, almost more than a lot at times, but that doesn't mean I am able to comprehend any of it. I can be tremendously happy, but I battle every day with being deeply depressed. I'm not sure what led to the depression, it could be multiple things, but I struggle to find things that make me smile. Sometimes all it takes is an old man sitting with his wife at a restaraunt to make me feel somewhat passionate again, but little of my life has made sense since I lost my grandfather.
I'd like to say that's where it all started, but quite frankly I am unsure that it hadn't started a year sooner when my best friend took his own life. I've been struggling with death, and I think I experienced everyone around me dying I got to the point where I wanted to, too. I hurt so bad, I wanted the pain to end. I didn't wanna die, but I wanted them back. I wanted my family back, my best friends... My heart was broken. I felt dead, so why wasn't I? My body lagged. My mind wandered. I wasn't here, not mentally, not emotionally, only physically and I just wanted to even it out. I wanted to get out. I wanted to escape this dreadful place. I looked left, all I saw was misery and to my right, nothing but anger. It's the cruelest world, ice cold to the touch. Broken. Empty.
