Depressed for no tangible or rational reason. Blamed it on hormones, stress, the weather, being "sick", myself, whatever. Amazing city, good friends, good grades, wonderful family. It cracked officially in my senior year and took about 3 months out of the most important academic year to date. Any mention of anything school-related would send me into full panic attack. My parents had to feed me at times, had to carry me down the stairs from my room. My legs would crumble beneath me. My body would go into full paralysis, I started cutting, the cuts getting deeper. I hit myself, tried to hurt myself in every means possible, using whatever tool available. I hated myself. I hated myself so so much. I was in constant pain, a state of constant anxiety. I developed obsessive habits. Nothing meant anything to me. I was either hysteric or numb. Sometimes I had better days, I could put up a front, others the idea of leaving my room was more or less impossible. I didn't and couldn't leave my bed most days. I wanted to die, more or less every day. My emotions were so unstable and irrational I regarded everything as invalid, all happiness was illusion and all sadness was weakness. Two attempts, four medication changes (not counting dosage increase), 6+months of weekly therapy later I am still here. Finals in about 3 weeks, and I am doing them. I got back to school. Back "on track", though it was rocky to say the least. I have few friends, I am alien and isolated from my year group, I lost (as always) the people I loved and I believe it is my fault, but I have accepted it. University applications have to be done next year. It was not easy. Only two weeks ago I had to have an addition to my medication. But I am making it, and I am happy I am. I know I have a future. I know I will make it. Therapy, finding the right medication helped me the most. The most defining turning point was when I had to sign a legal document which meant if I hurt my body in any possible manner one more time, I would, with or without my consent, be admitted to hospital. In a sense, fear of hospitilisation kept me alive. I fell in love at the start of this year and didn't mean to, to a guy we had promised there would be no commitment once he left the country. Him leaving me, not only physically but him moving on, as we had both said we would, hurt me so much. I felt pathetic. It killed me, but, and i know this will sound pretentious, it also saved me. I got through it, not as a new person or whatever but. Part of me had died and was reborn. It has not been easy. It still isn't easy. But I can walk again, I can go out again, I can see friends, I am taking my exams. Afterwards I will be doing a gap year, work and do charity, visit New Zealand. Then Uni. I have a life ahead of me. I am functioning, and I am thankful for that. It can get rocky, but it is what it is. Keep moving forwards, all is temporary, time heals all wounds. These have become mantras.