I know what it's like to be lost, alone, and broken. My battle with depression began in high school, after my family discovered my grandmother had stage four cancer. It was my first real loss — and I didn't know how to carry it. I thought being strong meant being silent, that therapy and support wouldn't help, that no one could possibly understand.
As the years went on, my world grew quieter. The words, music, and poetry that once gave me life began to fade. Those were my darkest days — days when I wondered if living was worth it at all.
Looking back, I wish I'd had a world that made trauma normal — that said it's okay to break, to stumble, to rebuild not because a story demands it, but because it's simply what surviving looks like. I wished for a space to remember the people I'd lost and a way to let my pain go — not into silence, but into something shared.
That world didn't exist for me.
So I started writing—not to sell anything or promote anything, but to build a place where pain didn’t have to stay hidden.#coping #Grief #Depression