Today, I’m 31.

Today, I’m 31. 

The past few months, I wasn’t sure I’d make it here. This isn’t meant to be dramatic or nihilistic, this was just the fact of my reality this year.  In the 29 years preceding this one, I’ve never felt so lowly or lonely. I almost let the crushing weight of depression and suicidal ideation win. 

The light at the end of the tunnel was just a speck and perhaps even an illusion. I didn’t want to remain in the dark, but it was easier. My depression kept me in that space so long that even when I wanted out, I had grown roots with my complacency. 

There’s much more to be said about this year, and much to be said to those who were there for me (even when I couldn’t see it — thank you), but I’m ready to uproot and crawl into the next chapter.