I stand outside the guidance counselor's office, debating whether or not I should knock. Her office is closed, but she could be inside. I pace back and forth a few more times. Maybe not today. I can't bring myself to face her.64Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ5LQTBDVu67
It should've been so easy.
11 PM, the apartment gate echoes loudly behind me as I close it. I haven't had dinner yet, but the nearby 7-eleven's cheap carbonara should be enough. As I go up the the winding apartment stairs, I look down. Maybe if it rained hard enough I would slip over the slippery tiles. The railings are lower than my waist.
It would be so easy.
I woke up late and and even then could not bring myself to go to class. No one wonders where I've been. Maybe a few friends, but they don't know me that much. I hide behind the few classes I managed to attend. Unsure, unfamiliar. I haven't been here often. If only I could get my act together. Far from home, surrounded by people who don't know me. I have no history here. I could be anyone- maybe even someone who excelled if I could just fucking keep it together.
It would've been so easy.
I'd make the most of being in a prestigious school and what it has to offer. I'd meet so many people I wouldn't have met otherwise. I'd keep myself occupied with the various festivals and cultural events held in the city. I'd visit nearby family often. I'd explore romance and my sexuality. I'd party with my peers whenever I can. I'd lose weight walking around the city playing Pokemon Go. I'd graduate with high honors with a difficult course. I'd make my family proud. The world would open up to me.
It would be so easy!
But it wasn't.
I ended up knocking on the guidance office. I broke down opening up to the counselor. Everything came crashing down and at that point I was too tired. I gave up. She called my parents and I had to go home and give up what could've been the greatest years of my life.
It wasn't easy.
But I'm glad I sought help. If not for the height of my depression, I wouldn't have been referred to a psychiatrist and begin my long journey of recovery. I wouldn't have reinforced my bonds with my closest friends over shared struggles. I wouldn't have met my first love and first heartbreak. And most of all, I wouldn't have met the wonderful people who have helped me get over all of this.
I have adapted a philosophy that if I can't do anything about it, why stress myself with it? And if thinking about it hurts me, why should it still occupy my thoughts?64Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡfKa1kP4VfB
It's that easy.
64Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡt7f8wXDM9a