Being diagnosed the first time with depression wasn't all that bad. It was my freshman year of high school, and I had just lost my best friend. I knew that it would happen. They put me on the pill, and I was on it for the next four years.

I didn't want to be on it when I started college, so I went to group therapy and started to wean off my medication (with the okay of my doctor). I thought I was doing fine, and then, I fell in love.

I fell in love with the way my friends texted me every day and how I got to learn something new. I fell in love with the laughter of my best friend and how she curled her hair in the morning. I fell in love with the mountains and how the sunset behind them. I fell in love with a lot of things. I thought it was the best time of my life until the thing I fell in love with made me feel like I was drowning.

I could start to feel myself pull away from all the things I loved. I fell in love with a girl who told me she wanted nothing to do with me, so I separated myself from love. I didn't want anything to do with it. I hated the sun, the moon, the stars, and everything in between. I stayed up at night wondering why my friends started to abandon me or what I did wrong to feel this way. I knew the depression was coming back, but I couldn't admit it.

It wasn't until I was laying in my bed, contemplating taking my life, that I knew I had to go back. I didn't want to die, but I didn't care for getting better either. I just wanted to lay in bed forever.

Sleep forever, and never wake up.

I went to the doctor. "We're putting you back on the depression medication" was the only thing I remember from that visit. It was a very hard feeling to describe, but I think I know now how to explain it.

You know when you jump in a pool, and you go just one foot too far, and you think you are going to drown? That's how I felt when they diagnosed me the second time with depression.

I feel like I have failed everyone around me, like I wasn't strong enough or good enough. But being back on my medication has saved me.

I'm still in love with the girl that ignores me every day, but I know I can survive without her. I have started to love the sun and the hills, my friend's laughter, and the smell of my house when I wake up.

Being diagnosed a second time with depression made me feel like I was drowning, but knowing that I can get help again and my friends are here for me, makes me feel like I am coming up for that first breath again. It's a long road to recovery, but I am willing to make the journey back home.