6

So here I sit in the same kitchen of my uncles house, watching the same show, up past everyone else, 6 YEARS LATER. I am still alive. I am still breathing. I am still living. Suicide did not get me. I tried. I have tried several times. I guess it the one time you can view failure as a success. At 18, I had no idea where my life was going. I had no hope for my future. School funding had run out, I was crashing in my uncles basement, and was jobless. I was severely depressed, and (I didn't know at the time.) struggling with Bi-Polar disorder. I just wanted to sleep until everything had worked itself out.

I hurt.

Fast forward now, 6 years later where I'm sitting in the same place as a guest. My apartment is down the street. School is around the corner. And I'm medicated so I can function. I'm choked up writing this, and I feel stupid. For what I don't know... I know that I don't need a special someone to make myself happy. That doing things like eating well, exercising, and letting my creativity flow, are things that keep me from feeling momentarily trapped. *sigh* I know that I'm not done, not by a long shot, but if I made it 6 years, then I can make it another 6, and another, and another...