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Lived, Died & Survived the same hell(s) ur in. Just decades ago and w/o platforms like this.

The earliest memory I have, is sadness. Then the sadness and I grew. After reading too many books because I was too scared to read faces, my vocabulary list, extended. it became, depression, abandonment, loneliness, pain so fuct, so deep, so real, uU but it was invisible. The only thing I could do with it, is what I do now. Write and try to help others, to convince them, If I could fucking make it, you can.

Your words that I’m reading, I wrote the same words decades ago, but to this day, they’ve never been read and I’ve never read anything like it except for the list of suffering or suicidal female writers that most of us probably love. Plath. Sontag. Anais Nin. I was alone with my words. This community, this tech brilliance that breaks isolation and stigma which will break and kill u, ur courage to share. Your awareness of yourself and ur shit. Your ability to confront it ! Anyone that has written anything here. You will be ok. You are already in the right direction. Everything I listed above is groundbreaking. Your ability to know and verbalize and accept and share your shit, that is protection and the steps towards healing. I know this sounds cheezy, but yea. I’m a mother. 16 year old going through Fucking helll. I did everything I could to break the cycle and all that, but her suffering lead me to read the current statistics or mental health amongst teenage girls or whatever you call yourselves. It’s mental. Literally mental now mental this world and system has allowed us to get. The statistics are startling, scary af. I can’t make sense of it yet, but know, you don’t have to be a statistic.

Your words can resonate w /1 person. You can literally help / save ppl w: your stories and openness. So, yea. You’re needed. No pressure, but pressure.

And I know I am like, old (er). My I didn’t even make it through HS. It would’ve destroyed me.

I tried. I smiled. Studied. I assimilated. I watched the other girls, the girls with parents, new jeans, good grades and real smiles. I studied them like my life depended on it, because it did. If I didn’t follow, if people knew how fuct I felt or was or what I wanted to do, if they knew my truths…. Back then these truths weren’t discussed. Platforms like this didn’t exist. Suffering, needed to be silent. I’m 41 years old. I hate that number cuz it’s like old af and I don’t feel old af, but with 41 years of BS, there are also moments on beauty. And moments to make ur own decisions. To lead ur own life. To be free from ur parents if they don’t get u. U can make ur own rules!!! With this much time, yea I guess a levels of maturity and awareness that while 41 is never an age I wanted to be, it’s a miracle I am still able to be. Alive. And the suffering, it continues. I’m not going to lie. It haunts me. It wants me, not here. But each time I survive a period of not wanting to or not thinking I can or wtf for, something crazy and unexpected happens. Something good. Something I wouldn’t have been able to notice or appreciate w/o the bell I had just rescued myself from. If that doesn’t work / incentivize u to remain, then ok. Reality. Life is short af!!! It flies by. So if it really sux, we won’t be here for so long so why. It just ride it out. I swear as anyone else that didn’t wanna be here, but stayed willl also swear, if u stay here. If u try. If ur open, some of the most beautiful shit in life willl happen it’s shit that it meant for u.

I’m so so so sorry for the suffering going on w all u rn. It is not you. The world is crazy. The top drs, professsors, fuck, even ur parents dunno what the F is going on. So again, YOU ARE NOT CRAZY. LIFE RN IS CRAZY. you come outta this and u will be able to do anything. And, again. This platform. This space. Ur willingness to accept confront and share ur issues. That gives u ownership of them. That gives ownership of yourself. Whatever any fucker tried to take from you or do to you. Do not deny it. Do not try to hide it. That is an injustice to yourself and your healing. Through ur confronting it, you get the power. Write about, even more power. You being here, writing, sharing. You’ve already done the hardest steps towards healing. Why stop now. As I tell my daughter when she doesn’t have want to eat or sleep or breathe, when she doesn’t to continue fighting, or continue at all, I tell her that if we quit, the fuckers that fucked with us win. We cannot let them win. Please keep fighting and writing. I promise, even if u don’t see it now, you will find many things worth living for.


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