By the end of college, I had friends. Real friends. I wasn't afraid to be myself. They knew me. They still hung out with me. It was great. I was on good terms with my parents. It had been really hard. But we made time for each other and talked about what was going on. I was honestly enjoying life for the first time since middle school began. My therapist had been right. It did get easier as time went on. And sometimes I still had to push myself to try. I still craved to cut myself every once in a while. But I didn't. I was stronger now. I was healing.

And for the first time in six years... I had a date.