It's 10:45pm, on a Wednesday, and I'm writing my thoughts on a screen because apparently I'm good at it. I've decided that writing is not a passion of mine. More like an in-the-moment type of thing. But acting, I love acting. In my very first play and real high school audition, I got the lead role. I've always wanted to be an actress. Probably dreamed of it since I've been able to dream. It has always been my main focus even if it didn't seem like it sometimes. But it has and always will be. I even wanted to go to an acting school. So I auditioned and got called back. But I didn't go. My father said he didn't have a "good feeling" about it. Even though there were good reviews on the school. And I knew we didn't have a problem finacially. He simply just didn't want me to go so that I could be stuck at home not achieving my dream. And at this point, it's a goal. But that's what parents do. They just don't want to let you go. Well not mine. My parents won't let me even walk down the street I've lived on for 17 years by myself. To protect me. Even though there are seven to 15 year olds playing on the street by themselves. And it's not like my neighborhood isn't safe. There's just a bunch of old people and a few families. Besides the crackheads in one of the houses. But they've never shown a sign of danger. So what could it be? Given, my parents do let me go out once in a while. But of course, only after they basically interviewed my friends and studied their parents. I wish I was being dramatic, and I probably am honestly. But that's just me and the rest of my five siblings I guess.

   Now don't think I'm writing a self-pity paper. I'm not. Although I have already written in my journal, that now have three entries, I feel like I need somebody else to read this. Maybe they're going through the type of life I am. Or maybe I'm the only one. Who knows? I bet you're thinking that "she needs to go to therapy." Well I do. But the problem is that I don't want my parents to know what I'm going through. It really isn't as easy as it looks, telling someone what you're going through. I've already been threatened to be taken to a pyschward before. One day I had decided to tell my parents, in 10th grade, that I had tried to commit suicide the previous night. My father took me to the hospital and told me that he could've put me in there, and next time he will. So after that, I acted like I was fine from that day forward.

   So yes, I'm fine. Ironically speaking, I had just watched a Ted Talk named "I'm Fine" spoken by Jake Tyler. And he himself had went through depression and told himself that he was "fine" because it was the "appropiate answer." A matter of fact, he mentioned that he had thought about suicide as well. But he never went through with it. He had spoken to a stranger about what he was going through, and the stranger had said, "Do you actually want to die or do you just not want to feel like this anymore?" And now I have asked myself that question. Do I want to die? Or do I just not want to feel like this anymore? And honestly, I don't want to feel like this anymore. I just wanted to take away this mental pain. Because I don't know what true happiness feels like anymore. Yes, when I pet my dogs I do feel joy. When I look at the stars on the roof of my best friends house with my best friend beside me trying not to slide off the roof, I feel a sisters love. When I fight with my siblings and we laugh it off after, I feel warmth. When I lay on the concrete beside my pool and feel the tender kiss of the sun with the soft touch of the wind, I feel content. And I've come to realize that that is happiness.

   And in this moment of writing these words on a screen at 11:17pm, on a Wednesday, because I'm good at it, I realize that I am coming out of depression. That everything is okay now and it always has been. I've just failed to realize it. I failed to realize that my life is beautiful and why would I want to take that away from myself? Why do I look at the things I could've done when I can just do it? Why am I letting anything hold me back? I'm lucky enough to have a life, so I'm going to live. Becuase quite frankly, I'm fine too.