I was so scared to give up depression, fearing that somehow the worst part of me was actually all of me.
I thought depression was the part of my character that made me worthwhile. I thought so little of myself, felt that I had such scant offerings to give to the world, that the one thing that justified my existence at all was my agony.
Age is a terrible avenger. The lessons of life give you so much to work with, but by the time you've got all this great wisdom, you don't get to be young anymore.
Years of depression have robbed me of that—well, that give, that elasticity that everyone else calls perspective.
They can give you all the pills on earth and do whatever - and you're still yourself.
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