I battled with the devil, I battled depression.I was depressed. I was tired of living this day to day life, feeling like a zombie. And I have only been living for 17 years, so what was the point of spending the other 70 years feeling like this? I was always described as somebody who is always smiling, always laughing, always happy. But the darkness engulfed me, and I didn't know why, I didn't know why I was being dragged down by this force and I couldn't fix it. I fought, I argued, I slept, I pushed, I was lost, and I got pulled farther down into the dark abyss of depression. I lost friends, I fought with my family, I felt alone. I'd miss school on a weekly basis, and when I did go I would be surrounded by a sinking feeling of terror and wouldn't even want to leave the house. The panic attacks would come frequently to visit me, they enjoyed being in touch with me, and being a reminder that I was weak. I wore a mask of emotion to hide my hurting, I didn't know why I felt the way I felt and I believed no one could truly understand it if I didn't understand it myself. After five months of being consumed by darkness, I dropped out of school just so I wouldn't have to see people anymore. I had enough chaos in myself, which made me rarely leave the house in fear that I'd have to feel the chaos on the outside too. I felt like I didn't want to live, didn't want to continue on feeling like there was no point in anything, and in my head nothing was becoming worth it. At times, I'd become so numb that I would need to cut myself, just to know that I still have feeling in me. I knew I could never commit suicide, I couldn't because no matter how bad I felt, I knew that as long as I had things to live for, it was worth it.