You have no clue about the hell I've been through.

When I post something sad on my finsta, I'm not doing it so you'll text me and ask me if I'm okay or see if I need anything. I'm doing it because I need a release.

It's hard to get out of bed in the morning. It's hard to find the motivation to get to my next class. It's hard to find a reason to go out and be social instead of staying at home binge-watching Grey's Anatomy for the seventh time.

I know what I've been through. And I don't know how to explain it. But I know I can use it to help other people. And that's why I talk about it.

I can't make excuses for myself anymore. I don't know what normal is anymore. But I do know that I don't have to share every single thing I experience from the time I wake up to the time I go to bed. Instead, I can talk to people. I can say that I have issues, and I can turn my tough experiences into something that can help other people.

You aren't depressed, unless you are. You aren't bipolar, unless you are. You don't have OCD, unless you do. Get the picture?

Don't appropriate mental illness because your vocabulary isn't wide enough to describe how you're feeling. But if you actually are depressed, if you actually are bipolar, if you actually have OCD, you're not alone. There are so many people struggling through the same trials every day, and you wouldn't even know it.

So next time you roll your eyes because I just put out another article about my own mental health journey, just know I don't care. Because you have no clue what waking up every day takes out of me.