It was my first back to New York after six months. I was looking forward to this. To going back to camp. Seeing my friends, and having fun for another summer. And for those of you who haven't figured it out yet, I was abused a child. And this caused some pretty shitty depression at a young age. It didn't help that I didn't have any friends. But I came here, and friends happened and the depression went away. It might pop up, but that was more so grief. I haven't thought about suicide since I was 14. That's a really long time. Well, okay, I did once in Tartarus but that wasn't killing myself, that was just giving up. So it doesn't count, okay?
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