Dear Depression,

I remember the year you took over my life; it was my senior year of high school. You hit me hard and ultimately, you ruined my life. It started off with being sad, and then getting sadder and sadder, until I couldn't take it anymore. I started to hurt myself in order to deal with the pain you were causing me. Senior year is supposed to be the best year of the whole high school career, and you took that away from me. You made me not want to talk to my friends, not participate in school, and you always put me in a bad mood. You brought anxiety with you, and together you made me an awful person. You made me question my existence, my purpose, and why I was ever born.

Not only did you take over my senior year, but you followed me to college. You crept up and you became angrier, and in turn, I got worse. You've made me want to take my life over and over again, and you even made it so bad, that I tried to act upon the thoughts. But I won that one, Depression, because I'm still here, typing this to you. You've made college so much harder for me, but I haven't let you win. I have gotten straight A's, won an award, up for another one or two, and I have so many internships and a really amazing job. But you make it hard to concentrate, you make it hard to get work done, you make it hard even to just wake up. I hate you, Depression.

Depression, you have not made me into the person I am, and yet you have. You have not been the reason for my successes, no matter how hard you try to tell me you are. However, you are the reason I am angry so often, maybe even why I'm cynical. You make me see the world as a dark place, and maybe you're right, but I'm not thankful for it. You do not define me.

Not only are you a burden to me, but you make me feel like a burden to everyone else that is in my life. You make me feel worthless, like I don't matter, and I'm not sure if you're right or wrong. You make me feel like if I ever want to reach out, I'm just seeking attention because you're trying to convince me that you're not there. But you are, and I hate that you have this power over me. I go to counseling to try to fight you, even though you are very convincing that I'm not really fighting a war, that this is natural. It's not. Nothing is natural about you. You're trying to kill me, and I don't understand why.

But let me tell you something, Depression, you do not define me. I have been very successful, even with you weighing me down and burdening me with your presence in my brain. I still don't think I have a lot of worth, if any, but at least other people think I do. The day you tried to kill me was the day I realized I really had to tell someone. So, I reached out to people, and the responses were amazing. I still reach out to people, and they tell me that I do matter, that I do have life worth living, that I am doing amazing stuff, that I do have a purpose, and that they do care about me. You might convince me many times that they do not, and that I am a loser, but others are on my side, helping me fight you. I'm thankful for them. I'm thankful that I am able to take my pain that you cause and turn it outward for good, to help people.

I'm not sure if you'll ever leave or you'll ever stop trying to kill me, but at least I have people who are trying to kill you, just you. I will continue to work my hardest to help others, and to bring awareness about you. Once again, you do not define me. And no, Depression, you have not made me stronger.