In the middle of 9th grade I found myself falling. The only thing was that I had isolated everyone. There was no one to catch me.

I fell into a black hole I was told was depression. Life had caught up to me, and at the tender age to fifteen I was dealing with the eternal question of death. My parents didn’t know if I would make it to sixteen. Frankly I didn’t either.

I was stuck in the hole of small, unidentifiable triggers setting of major panic attacks and the drastic mood swings which made it impossible to study or socialise or do anything a normal fifteen year old should.

I don’t talk about the time I spent in the dark much. I do talk about how I helped me become me.

My fear of falling made me make my base stronger. It made me branch out and secure my ground. I found that support was just an arm length away. I found that with the right people, you can deal with anything life throws at you.

My fear of rejection lead me to be less risky. In a time where I would have jumped in front of a car for a approval I realised that the only person I had to love was me. And since then, I have loved the person I have turned out to be.

My fear of people, well it has safely subsided. I like company now, especially company which keeps my mind growing. I love when people recommend me books to read and papers to filter through. I love a debate of Kafka and an opinion on Woolf.

At the end of the day, I went through something probably everyone will face at some point in their life. But what I feel is most important is that the person who fell down that hole came back stronger and more resilient.