I am not ashamed of who I am. I have depression. I am the happiest person you know. I am the most energetic, always smiling, crazy hyper person you know.
I cut. I have suicidal thoughts. I’ve struggled with suicide ideation for over 6 years. I have attempted suicide–and I failed.
I take anti depressants. I get decent grades. I dream of death. I love the breathe of life when I run. I love the sound of th air. I drink to not feel. I smoke to feel like someone else.
But I am not ashamed of me. I am ashamed of the need to hide my depression. Because it is a piece of me. It is a part of who I was, and who I am.
I am not ashamed of my depression, I am ashamed that I allow others to let it define me.