I type up this letter just a few hours before I join some fellow undergrads at UC Berkeley for a conversation circle, a space created for us by the school's University Health Center to "discuss the sustainability and emotional wellness" for student of color. With this, UHC is giving us a space to safely explore and voice our needs in regards to mental wellness.

Dear Scott,

I was recently made aware of your tough but necessary decision to check yourself into rehab. When I first heard the news, I must admit I was a bit taken aback. How can the Man on the Moon have been feeling this way for all these years? However, the more I dug, the more I realized that the battle you have been having within yourself is not one that sprung up in the last two years, but has been ongoing throughout your career. I found out that as far back as 2014, you admitted to battling depression; even before that, in 2013, you managed to deal with your addictions, and that's something to which I can relate.

Just this past year, I came to realize that I had been an addict. I had not realized the detrimental effects that my addiction was having on my school and my relationships, convincing myself that it was okay. My blindness to this led me to retreat within myself until I decided to open up to my mother who, despite being the closest person to me, never knew what I was dealing with. Even more recently, I revealed to her that, for as long as I have been back in the United States, I've had this feeling of anxiety whenever I find myself amongst people. This stemmed from the fear of being made fun of for my accent that I developed at 11 years old. Despite being a talkative troublemaker prior to that, I became shy and reserved; with time, this shyness transformed into a fear of being in social situations. To this day, I have this feeling of unease whenever I find myself outside. This same feeling led me to retreat to the familiarity I found in my addiction and forgo any form of socializing.

Having been raised by the African side of my family, I've always seen mental illness as a synonym for crazy. For this reason, when I was faced with the reality of mental unwellness in my own life, I sneered at the idea of it being real, let alone affecting me. This was also one reason I was taken aback by your admitting to not being well. It takes a certain amount of courage for one, especially an African-American man, to reveal such a personal struggle. It's definitely made me more aware of my own battles and realize that the first step to fighting them is to accept that I am not well.

Now, I cannot say that I know what it feels like to battle depression (though I know what it is like to deal with a family member who struggles with the illness), but I'm sure it is more than just having a few bad days. One thing I know, though, is that you have shown immense strength before in fighting your addictions; and for that reason, I am confident that you will get through this "ragin' violent storm."

Keep making your own wave, Cudi. Keep on surfing!