
The spring light drapes across the living room floor, and I think to myself, "What a day to be alive." That's what I am. Alive. And I could not be happier to proclaim that. You see, the last few years have been quite difficult for me. Nearly impossible, actually. But I got through them and I will continue to get through them until I cannot do it any longer. This life is the one I was given, and this is the one life I will live as me. My life means more to me now than it did even six months ago. I have made tremendous strides in my recovery, and I will make more strides, until I can say that I believe in myself to do whatever my heart desires. I sit here, spilling my guts to you, red nails tapping across a black keyboard, and I wonder something. I wonder if it's even worth it. To tell you all about these things, I mean. No one, besides my family, has ever taken the time to care. To get to know me, the real me, and know that yeah, I'm depressed, but I can have happy days too, just like you. Have patience with me. I thought I had met someone that genuinely cared, but he turned out like the rest and ran. I guess, though, that I will have to have more patience for myself before anyone can have patience for me. I don't know how quickly that will come, but just know that I am trying. And as I have said twice before in this post, I will continue to try. I will be how I want to be one day. I can promise you that for certain.