When you close your eyes, what do you see? I'll tell you what I see. Black. Pitch black. An empty void. Nothingness. That darkness, it tightens its grip around you. It starts with your chest, as if it were aiming for your heart. It squeezes, pushing the air out of you making it hard to breathe. It swarms your body making it impossible for you to move. Slowly, then all at once; you are trapped. The only thing you can do is shed a single tear and hope that someone notices your pain. When someone asks you what it feels like to suffer from depression what is a better way l to answer than saying “I don't know?” Let's be real. We really, truly don't know. You feel empty, like there's nothing left to keep you going. You don't know what to do, you don't know how to do it or you just simply can't. It's not because you're a dumb, lazy millennial. It's because your body is keeping you from doing it. It's telling you; No, don't move. You're going to hurt yourself. I was diagnosed with depression and anxiety when I was about 13 years old. Being just a child, I had some pretty scary thoughts rummaging through my mind. I didn't know what was wrong with me. As I got older I learned that there were a lot of people like me, I knew that I was not alone. I had trouble verbally expressing my emotions so I never really went to people for help. Instead, I did what I could to help others. That is how I got my happiness, knowing that I could be there for others in their time of need. My happiness slowly started coming to a halt. I still tried my best to help others when they needed me, but it didn't make me happy anymore. I had a rough relationship with my parents. They divorced when I was seven. They were distant; always working. But at the same time they were fighting for custody of my brother and I and trying to make it a competition of who was the better parent. In reality, they were never there for us. Sometimes I believe this is where it all began. I never had anyone to express myself to because this competition made my parents angry. Angry at each other, and angry at my brother and I. Of course it back lashed. I became a distant child. I didn't talk to them much, I had an attitude slightly worse than the average teenager.. But it was always my fault. No, it couldn't have been because of the lack of parental guidance. It was just because I was a disrespectful kid. At least that's what I was told. At about 16, my best friend, my grandma, passed away from stage 4 lung cancer. While she lived 5 hours away, we still made an effort to spend every weekend with her. She was our rock and she did her best to shape us into the people she thought we should be. She was diagnosed when I was around 13, shortly after I was diagnosed with my depression. My grandma was stubborn and a fighter. But from the day of her funeral and so on, the depression got worse. At this point I felt truly empty inside. My exact thoughts were “We all die at some point anyway, what's the point?” Day after day I continued to trudge through life the best I could. It didn't work. My grades dropped, I stopped showing up to school, I stopped caring. Eventually they had to put me into an alternative school just so I could graduate. Just after I turned 18, I was able to graduate early; but that wasn't the end of it. I couldn't keep a job. I didn't have the will-power to get out of bed every day and take on the world. For this, I was lazy, I was irresponsible, I was a failure. This isn't about a pity party though. In fact, a pity party is the exact opposite of the purpose of my writing. I want everyone who's going through the same thing to understand. You are at rock bottom, but the only place you can go from there is up. At 19 now, I finally pushed myself and found my will-power to wake up every day. All it took was a set of goals and one person to motivate me. I started writing again. I took on a new hobby as a photographer. I found a perfect relationship. I will be moving out of my parents toxic household in a little over a month. I am starting to become happy again. At 13, I was diagnosed with severe depression. At 19, I can tell you that it does get better, and you will be happy again.