As a teenager growing up, I felt the weight of the world on my shoulders and the pressures of society influencing my thoughts and actions at times. I was naive and impressionable. I had a lot of family issues and school drama like anyone else. I remember one day my oldest sister moved out of the house and I felt completely alone. I was in high school and had all these changes to deal with. I remember weeks after my sister leaving I had felt so alone and upset; I was on the floor of my bathroom silently crying with my hands in my hair. It was around midnight when everyone was sound asleep, I hugged my knees to my chest and out of nowhere I clawed my nails from my ankles, to my legs, up to my knee. I clawed myself hard. I hadn’t realized what I had done until I had lifted my fingernails from my skin and looked at my legs in horror. I felt crazy. If someone had witnessed that I would be locked up and put away. I decided to tell no one about it; I wanted to forget my unintentional behavior. Not soon after I started to have an abundance of negative thoughts about myself. I felt like I wasn’t pretty, or skinny, and I wasn’t as smart as I thought I was. I was slipping. I was slipping into an unknown darkness of new found self-hatred. I kept  reflecting on that night when I hurt myself. I couldn’t admit it then, but even though it hurt, I liked the feeling of pain. I felt like I deserved it. My negative thoughts of self-hatred increased over time and it wasn’t long until I started to use a blade against my skin and I started to cut myself. It hurt at first and I wanted to stop. But my feelings of self-loathing won over because I thought I deserved the pain; So I kept at it. I didn’t want anyone to know or to see so I cut myself in “safe places”. I didn’t do it every day. I did it when my thoughts were too heavy, when I got rejected, felt heartbroken, messed up in anyway, or when I let others manipulate me. I did it because I got made fun of and when people underestimated me-they thought I was slow, stupid, or weird-. I’d cry in the bathroom and cut myself. I did it so often that when something happened that made me feel worthless, my wrists would burn as if my body needed that pain. Just like how when you’re hungry, your stomach will growl aching for food; just like how my body started to ache for pain. The thing I liked about cutting was that after I did it, I would be sore for a few days reminding me of that pain. It reminded me of how I felt and the punishment I deserved. Then my wound would itch and drive me crazy until I scratched and it bled again. The sick thing about it was that I liked the remaining scars afterwards. It reminded me of the many times I proved to be worthless.  No one knew I was hurting physically and emotionally. I felt like other people controlled me at times. What I should do and say. I would just remain quiet. I couldn’t control my thoughts or feelings. I felt alone in the darkness and the only thing I could control was my self-punishment, but even then I was losing control over that. My wrists burned constantly. I felt like if I didn’t cut myself, then my skin would constrict harder and harder. I believed that when I cut myself that my skin would be opened and I could finally breathe. It was getting bad. It all started with me clawing at my legs, cutting myself with a dull knife, and upgrading to a sharp razor. I used to cut my ankle, my wrist, my thighs. Places that I could easily hide my pain. One day I just didn’t have enough bandaids  and my wound bled through my sock and someone noticed. They proceeded to alert my father. I’ve never seen my father cry before; until the day he confronted me about my problem. He wanted to talk about it and ask me why I did it. Seeing him like that and knowing that I was the cause of his heartbreak and tears broke me. But he didn’t understand my pain and I couldn’t tell him why I did it. I promised him that I would stop and even thought I tried to stop; it was only a matter of time before I started again. I began to like a boy who was rude, manipulating, and dangerously alluring. He told me that I was pathetic, naive, and I wasn’t good enough for him. But he’d play with my head and toyed with my emotions like I was nothing but an amusing game. My cutting started to worsen. He molested me and crossed lines, but he made me believe that I wanted him and I was a disgusting pathetic slut. I felt dead inside. He rejected me, but continued to molest me and fill my head with lies. Then out of nowhere a beautiful boy fell in love with me. He fell in love with me and made the darkness go away. It wasn’t all at once, but over time his light shown brighter than the darkness I held. To him I was beautiful, kind, and smart. I was important and his first priority. I could bore you with everything that happened afterwards, but I won’t. Years have passed and although I am not still with that beautiful boy; I am happy. I am okay. I’ve had a lot of light and darkness in my life. Depression is a tough battle that I fight everyday. Some days it gets me and other days I conquer. I haven’t self-injured or cut myself in two years. I’ve slipped sometimes, but I try my absolute hardest to stay strong. I’m not going to tell you it’s easy, because it isn’t. My wrists still burn sometimes urging me to hurt, it takes all I have to ignore it, but I do. I’m stronger than that. I don’t fight depression solely for myself, I fight for the people I love and the people that love me. The hardest thing people struggle with is believing that they are alone. That is the biggest lie. You are NOT alone. You might always feel or believe that way, but you are wrong. You have family, friends, and even strangers who care about your well-being. I’ve gone up to strangers crying trying to see if I can help them in anyway. I’ve had strangers come up to me and ask if I was okay. Humanity is not lost! The darkness is overwhelming, but you cannot let it consume you. I never thought that I would stop hurting myself physically and emotionally, but I have. I still have negative thoughts from time to time. I try my hardest to remember all the people who love me despite my negative flaws that I have. I can work on myself to overcome them. My flaws, my depression, and how I perceive myself. If you can’t live for yourself, live for other people who see your value and potential, until you can finally live and love yourself. You are not a lost cause. Years ago if you would have told me that I’d be this strong person I am today; I would have laughed. But look at me now. I’m still not perfect and will never be. But I am living, I am smiling, I am trying to love myself, and I am conquering depression day by day. You can too. Believe in yourself and don’t let the darkness consume you.