Take Me Home

Take Me Home

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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Mon, Jan 21, 2019
Jon Krakauer once said, "it's not always necessary to be strong, but to feel strong." When I left my home in New York, I felt strong and knew deep inside of me that I was doing the right thing. There was not an ounce of regret when I pulled out of my driveway in my beat up bright yellow jeep, well not until I reached Chicago did it fully sink in. Then it finally hit me when my jeep broke down in a small town in Washington, where everyone practically knows each other. You could imagine all the gossip that spread when a unknown city girl moved in. And now add in a drunk old man, a promise, a guy who hates my guts, and a dog. That's when my life took a turn, both for good and bad.
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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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