On October 10, 2017, I celebrated one full year of being clean from self-harm.

One full year since the last time I ran the sharp edge across my skin and watched my skin become stained red.

People close to me ask how it feels to be "better." How it feels to be "happy." How it feels to be "fixed." It's in these moments when I'm asked those questions when reality hits me and I'm forced into the decision of how to answer.

They ask: "You're better now, how does it feel?"

In my head: I haven't felt the sting before my skin stains red in over a year. But most nights before I go to sleep, I still run the blade across my skin remembering how it felt. Knowing how it would feel if I just added some pressure.

What I actually say: "It feels great. I'm glad to be past that."

They ask: "You look so happy, how does it feel?"

In my head: The sparkle in my eye, fake. The smile on my face, fake. The happiness you see, it's forced. Most days I'm not happy, I'm numb.

How I really respond: "It feels great to be happy. Really great."

They say: "See? I told you that you could be fixed."

In my head: You have no idea just how broken I am.

But I respond with: "Yeah you did. You were right."

People "like me" are constantly hiding the voices and thoughts in our heads so those close to us are happy and no longer worrying. We hide our depression because we want the same thing everyone wants; happiness.

We don't want to have to admit that we haven't eaten in three days because we couldn't leave our bed or because the monsters in our head told us we were fat again.

We don't want to admit that we've missed at least half of our classes because we can't get out of bed most mornings.That in our head we're being told: "you're so stupid." "You're never going to pass." "Your teacher knows you can't figure any of this out." "Why do you even bother?"

We don't want to admit that we haven't been sleeping because it's worse at night. That all we hear as we're trying to fall asleep is: "everyone would be so much better off if you didn't wake up. No one would even care that you're gone." So instead of sleeping, we have to call or text our mom at 2:30 am just to hear that we're loved.

Or just how often we have to lie about our depression because we don't want anyone to know or realize just how broken we really feel.

So as someone who suffers from depression, I have a few things to say about my monsters.

I'm not fixed.

Quite frankly I'm a mess.

I can't remember the last time I went a day without calling my mom at least twice on top of already texting her all day. And how if she doesn't answer right away, my depression tells me that she's finally given up on me too.

I can't tell you the last time I ate a real meal or had a full night's rest. I find everything exhausting which you would think would help me sleep. But instead, I lie awake at night with nothing other than the monsters in my head telling me I'm worthless.

I play my music too loud in hopes that it will drown out the thoughts in my head.

I'm not happy.

I've gotten to the point where I'm no longer sad or angry all the time; instead, I'm numb. I'm numb because it's exhausting to feel everything so deeply all the time.

I've also come to believe that I don't really know what it means to be happy. Or what that actually feels like.

I'm not fixed.

I don't know the last time I went a full day without thinking about suicide.

To go a full day without having my own mind tell me that my life isn't worth living.

I have so many broken pieces that I have different parts of myself that I hide from the world because I can't handle facing them again.

So no, I don't know what it feels like to be "fixed." And I don't know if I'll ever know what that feels like.

But here is what I do know. I'm still here.

And if you're reading this article right now, you're still here too. That in itself is worth celebrating.

So if you're anything like me feeling like you're in a world you don't belong in. Suffering silently with your depression, I'm here for you.

You are not alone.

You will never be alone.

Please keep fighting, I'm rooting for you and I believe in you. Your life is worth living, I promise.

"Without the tragedy and the pain; you never experience the true meaning and especially the feeling of compassion, empathy, and forgiveness." -My Mama

*Thank you to everyone who reached out to me and spoke to me about their struggle with their depression. Your stories and experiences helped me write this article. Together we can battle the stigma of mental illness. Thank you. Thank you. Thank you. I'll always be here fighting by your side.*