Artwork of a depressed teen… me.
At a certain point, I surpassed the age at which I had more or less expected to have already died by.
Panic began creeping in, as I worried that without building a steady foundation of “When I grow up I want to _______”,
I was doomed to wander in a goal-less fog for all eternity. But I realized that the fact that I’d been in a position to choose life, to choose to gain control over my mental health, had given me the tools I needed to do what would make me happy.
My experiences allowed me to gain the empathy, understanding, and determination to help others in my position.
That’s where I go from here.