 Why on earth would she be calling me? I was so close but yet so far for doing the one thing I’d been countlessly thinking about. Was this a sign? Maybe I wasn’t meant to die after all. The moments after felt like a time-ticking bomb. I was so lost, but what person wouldn’t be after their own mother found out that their ‘beloved’ son tried to kill himself again. As I walked through the hospital doors, I felt nothing but numbness vibrate throughout my body.  The thousands of questions bombarded upon me felt like never ending. But that’s the doctors job right? To fix you. “What brings you here today?” This question seemed so simple but yet so difficult. “ I tried killing my self again” those 6 words mumbled out of my mouth in shame. In this exact moment it felt like reality was coming true, and oh yeah it was. Part of me wished it did happen, but am I so wrong for feeling that way? The moments after felt like a fever dream, so blurry and overwhelming. I woke up the next morning and the immediately the memories came rushing back into my head. The picture perfect, teenage boy wasn’t so perfect inside was he? Each day I felt more and more empty. How does one recover from something this heavy on the soul? Late night became every night, thinking of how I want to pick up the puzzles pieces to heal myself. I didn’t want to admit to myself that I needed help, but my mom and dad told me that we’d be going to see a therapist. I felt defeated, that this was the last straw that could help my incurable feelings. You’d think hearing the words “, you have severe depression,” would help you fulfill your thoughts of darkness . It felt even worse knowing that I had depression. As the days went on I knew I had to start helping myself, to stop dwelling on my past. But where does one start when this feeling is empty  and loss? I started picking up the pieces as much as I could, but the journey that was coming my way felt invincible. There’s only so much a person can do to heal themselves, but what if no one can really ever can be healed? Months passed by of me debating how I can fix myself, but there came a moment of realization. I realized that if I learned how to get by each day. That’s how I will get by for the rest of my life. Being different is looked down upon, but each person has their own story to tell. I became proud of myself how far I made I made  it. In retrospect I hadn’t made it very far, but in my eyes I did. Being happy isn’t easy, but I learned how to be, instead of filling my brain with gloomy thoughts. Even more time passed , everyone around me had seen I survived suicide didn’t I? It’s almost as if I glad this happened, it sparked something inside of me to be a better version of myself. This Benefited me in such harmful but great ways, I found love for educating and helping others. I never thought I’d be the one, but as time tells, I was that person. Of course, I was still fighting my own battles, but if it meant I could help others in the process l it was more than worth it. “There’s always light at the end of the tunnel.” It all felt like a lie, but as time went on I found myself telling that to other people. As cliche as it sounds, helping others heal, healed me. Who knew that the broken, beat up teenage boy would make it out alive.