Cringe In My Life

It’s funny: I don’t know whether to cringe at my life when I was fifteen years old or cringe at my life now. Fifteen-year-old me had dreams of becoming a professional photographer, living in New York City with a boyfriend and at least one cat. I had those dreams because life was not easy for me at that age. It had been two years since I first began to suffer from depression. Transitioning from elementary school to junior high school was a challenge for me. I had never been to a new school, and I was going to a new territory without my best friend, LeToya or my secret crush at the time, DeVonte. My goal was to make some new friends.
At the start of seventh grade, I thought I had achieved my goal when I befriended a group of girls from my class. Every day, the four of us all sat together during lunch. My friendship …show more content…
He left school without telling me that it was going to be his last day here or even saying goodbye. He could had at least said goodbye!”
“Sounds like he meant a lot to you.”
“He did. I...I really liked him, as a friend.”
I never told her or Mrs. Benhase how serious my friendship with Manuel was. I didn’t want them to think that I was a cliché: the good girl who fell for the bad boy and had her poor little heart broken (even though that is what happened). Despite the withholding of information, seeing the counselor once a week did help to improve my mood which in turn help to improve my grades.
Life as a teenager with depression was hell, but I didn’t learn what real hell was until my twenties. I suffered from my first manic episode at age twenty-two, where I spent days unable to eat or sleep, feeling high as hell without the use of alcohol or drugs, talking and cussing up a storm really fast about anything and everything without a care in the world, and thinking about doing risky things, like blowing my money or having mind-blowing sex (I ended up doing one of these things with unsatisfying