Well, I need to vent somewhere. And here seems like a pretty good place. And I guess the only place to start... Is at the beginning. In case anyone else ever actually reads this... For all intents and purposes, I will not be giving my name or where I live, and anyone I talk about will have their names changed as well to protect their privacy as well as my own. To give a little background, I am 17 years old and a senior in high school. I am female, in case you-- invisible, imaginary reader-- were wondering. I talk to my therapist once a week, and I am currently on Lexapro, but so far it isn't working. I have-- I would hate to say suffer from-- OCD, Severe Depression, Chronic Anxiety and Anorexia. I am just your typical, American teen. I have always excelled in school, being a 4.0 student up until this year, when my life finally went to shit. For the past 6 years, I have hidden behind a mask of happiness and sanity. No one knew until just last year that I was as... Well... Hopeless as I am. I finally shared my story with a couple of my best friends, one of whom died I a tragic car accident this past month. Yeah. My life. Nothing makes me feel worse than having essentially such a great life and still feeling so horrible. I don't understand it myself, and so it just makes me feel worse and worse. Especially when someone else points it out. I have scars on my arms, my thighs and my psyche, I write poetry and music, and well, I guess that's me in a nutshell. I don't know how often I'll write on here, but it'll probably be every day... If you know how I feel I would love for you to share, and if not, keep your hate to yourself. Thanks!! One More
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