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Reflections of a Seventeen-Year-Old Girl

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I am writing this for my fellow adolescents who have lost hope. This is for those who believe they will never feel better, and for those who believe nobody understands them and nobody can help them.
I am not going to directly refute their statements because true happiness is a very elusive and too-often short-lived state. Even the state of being “okay” is hard for us to reach at times. And yes, nobody can fully understand any one person because no two people have gone through the same exact experiences and have had the same exact thoughts. Yet so many of us have felt the same awful feelings that brought us together in this terrible mutual depression: anger, disappointment, neglect, abandonment, heartbreak, loss, insecurity, self-loathing, stress, detachment, worthlessness. This is not one of those cliché motivational stories where the author goes through a difficult period, such as a death of a family member, but then finds some spiritual higher being and regains hope and lives happily ever after. This is a personal reflection on relationships and experiences I have had before and after intensive treatments with various doctors, nurses, therapists, and psychiatrists. And while I have so much left to learn, I have come so far.
To my peers I have met while in treatment, and to those whom I shall never meet, do not lose hope. Perhaps there isn’t a light at the end of your tunnel but instead sporadic holes in which light shines through, which you cannot see or feel the sunlight because you are only looking at the dark ground you were walking on. I am not saying that everything will get better but I promise that you are not stuck. Maybe you will be heartbroken once more. Maybe your parents will still argue. Maybe the kids in school will still call you “fat” and “ugly”. Despite all the bad, I hope that one day you will realize you do not need to suffer for the things you cannot change.

“Don't wish away your cracked past, your crooked toes, your problems are paper mache puppets you made or bought because the vendor at the market was so compelling you just had to have them… Don't lose too much weight. Stupid girls are always trying to disappear as revenge. And you are not stupid. You loved a man with more hands than a parade of beggars, and here you stand. Heart like a four-poster bed. Heart like a canvas. Heart leaking something so strong they can smell it in the street.”
- Frida Kahlo
Chapters:   « Previous 1 2 3 4 5 6 ... 9 Next »

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