A/N: Hi guys, I'm sorry for being away for so long, but hopefully, this would enlighten you guys on what had happened to me. In case you are wondering, this is a copy of my Life History. An autobiography if you will. It's short, don't worry. I just want to explain why I have been gone and have not been updating of late. I have received your pm's and am sorry that I am not yet replying to them. This, is my explanation. This is a copy of an assignment my professor in research psychology gave to us last week. So, read. I need you guys to understand. Maybe you will find something here that will help you.

My Life In Print

Chapter 1: 0-3 years old

" Ignorance is Bliss"

Getting straight to the point, even when I wasn't born yet, my family was far from your typical family. My parents always fought. My sister only eight years old, already witnessing and experiencing things children her age shouldn't have. Because my sister was the first grandchild of my grandparents, she was spoiled and loved. All the attention was on her, until I came into the picture.

Too young to understand what was going on, I was blissfully ignorant of what was plaguing my family. It's a recipe of self-denial, anger, hurt, pain, guilt peppered with a lot of bitterness that caused my parents' marriage to fail.

Blinded by the innocence God gives to the newly born, I was shielded from the trauma my older sister had already endured for eight years alone.

Chapter 2: 3-6 years old

"Age Is Nothing But A Number"

My childhood was riddled with confusion, pain and loneliness. I was hospitalized for a month for juvenile rheumatoid arthritis, constantly witnessed my parents fight, and endured a long time of desolation.

These years of childhood was the climax of my parents' marriage. I wont disclose anything too graphic or personal but, to cut things short, it was not a good ending. I learned to tell off my father not to hurt my mom. I knew what was going on better than what other people thought. They thought that they had shielded me well but it was pointless.

I knew that my mother was being physically abused. I heard every shout and cry from the room next to my room together with my sister. My sister would constantly hug me so that I wouldn't go in my parents room to tell off my father. I was four. I became much older then. I may not have realized but what I had gone through, looking back, I was mature and brave in ways I knew my sister could never be. I knew I had to protect my mom from my father, so I would constantly tell him to stop fighting and hurting her. I would never leave their room until I got a yes from my father. He would ask my sister to take me away and I would hear it happen all over again. I loved my mom. I did my best to protect her in my own way. I stood up to my father. My sister could never do that. I was my mother's protector. I did not see my mom and sister for two years after the worst abuse my mother had endured for two weeks alone with my father.

Chapter 3: 6-9 years old

"Till My Heart Will Go On"

Pardon for how cheesy the chapter title may sound, but this song was what kept me going on. "How Do I Live" is another song that made me strong. These two songs, I dedicated these songs to my mom. For the two years I have not seen my mom thinking she was dead, these two songs made me hope she was still out there, longing to see me, still loving me.

At six years old, I saw my mom again. I remember not knowing how she looked like anymore and telling her that she was so pretty, like an angel. It was hard for me, after two years of dreaming and hoping she was still out there, she was suddenly in front of me. Alive. My mom. Loving me, as I know she would.

She visited me. She attended my graduation in kinder. She tried so hard to be a family again but what she endured from my father for fourteen years killed her. She sacrificed again just to see me.

Had she stayed in the marriage, she would have died, both figuratively and literally.

That was how dire the situation was. It was not until years later when I was of age that I finally knew the truth. The whole of it. The ugly truth.

In grade four, my parents were getting an annulment. My father did his best to persuade me into being in his custody by manipulating me and destroying my mother's reputation. For a moment, I was fooled but then I remembered the fights, how much he hurt my mom. I did the right choice by choosing to be with my mom. My sister, however, chose to be with my dad. It was an ugly thing. My sister destroyed my mother's reputation in court by writing an alibi filled with family secrets that my mom had opened up to her. She betrayed my mom's confidence because she was bitter of my mom's relationship with Perry. I had no problems with Perry. Up until now, being 19, he is still with me and my mom. In many ways he became a father to me. He tried his best to fill in the void my father left. In the end, I stayed with my mom and my sister stayed with my dad.

In grade five, I was always called to the guidance office. My father's side of the family tried many ways to get a hold of me for the two years we have been separated, but I was traumatized of how my father brainwashed me against my mother and how nearly he had succeeded. Instead of being a kid, I was too busy of trying my best to be an adult and finding ways to be strong.

Chapter 4: 9-12 years old

" Onset"

Looking back, I realized that even at this early age, I was already battling depression. Oh, my grades weren't affected in any way. As a matter of fact, I excelled. I was in the top ten of my class even if I didn't study. Inside though, I was a mess.

I had no real friends, true friends that I could be myself with. More or less, I had buddies, classmates to eat lunch with, to have casual conversations with but nobody who I could call a best friend. These years of my life just passed me by.

After two years, I saw my dad' family, my sister and dad again. The last time I saw them was when I was eight. At ten, I decided that it was high time that I be a grown up and face the music. It was awkward. There was a tension in the air that permeated the room whenever I was with them. A thick heavy silence that you could cut a knife with, was easily common in our conversations. We never really discussed what happened when I chose to be with my mom, what happened at the custody hearing, what I wrote about my father in my alibi like what my sister did to my mother. The only difference of my alibi with my sister's was that I never aired any unnecessary dirty laundry in our family. What I wrote was significant to the case and was only the truth. I never showed my father in a sordid light. He did that all on his own. My sister, however, broke my mom's trust and heart. She made it seem as if my mom were unfit to take care of us in every way. It tore me to see my mom like that. I learned to be strong and to be a pillar of strength for my mom. My sister had betrayed her. I tried my best to fill the void my sister left, to mend her broken heart, to make her see that I was never going to do that to her, that I was never going to leave her. I promised my mom just as she promised me that we would always be there for each other no matter what. Through thick and thin.

Chapter 5: 12-15 years old

" The Rationale of the Masochist "

Superman has his kryptonite. I have my father. He was the one who made me feel like I was never good enough. He belittled my school, my achievements and constantly poked fun at my mistakes.

I learned how to be cautious with my grammar. I learned to try and push myself further. I was a pencil pusher. A true stickler.

My accolades quickly became my shame. When I was top two of my class I didn't tell him. He would only say why didn't I try to be top one. When I get a 98 on a paper, he would ask why I didn't make it a hundred.

My mom and Perry were proud of me but I didn't want their approval. I wanted my father's. I never got it.

My sister and I were the sun and the moon. I was bright, happy and loving. My sister was reclusive, selfish and insensitive. I was too caring, she was too indifferent. These were the effects of what had transpired with our parents. She pushed people away while I invited too much people in. I cared too much and if it was about my father's opinion of me, I cared excessively.

My sister had always been scared of my father but I always believed in fighting for what I believed in, fighting for the truth, fighting for my opinion. So, I fought with my dad incessantly. The things he called me would reverberate in my mind. His insults and curses were my lullabies. Whenever he would call me an ungrateful bitch or a worthless piece of shit, I would make sure to tattoo those words into my heart. I would make sure that they sear into the deep recesses of my mind. I memorized every text message I received and o' heavens were they a lot. His shouts about how he loathed me were litanies to me. I made sure that I would remember how much pain I felt then. I made sure that the tears that streaked my face unceasingly would leave a mark on my face.

No, it wasn't because I wanted to hate my father. I hated him that was true but I loved him more that I could hate him and that's what hurts the most. Every time he cursed me I still longed for his approval. I longed for his praise that I knew would never come. No. In my mind, I remembered every hurt he caused me because it made me into a better person. I learned to be stronger. His words of hate made me resilient enough to ward off anything he might do to hurt me again in the future.

My friends would always tell me to stop torturing myself. My mom would beg me to stop reading and responding to my father's texts but I would never listen to them. In my mind, I needed my father's hateful words. I remember how vehemently he tore me asunder. My father was intelligent so he was very creative with his curses and insults. Now, the things he says, only makes me laugh. Because I know, no matter how hard it is for me to accept it, that his reasoning is no longer logical. His mind is no longer sound. All those years of substance abuse had taken its toll on his mind. I knew the truth. My father is a good man but he had made his own bed. What he did to himself wasn't my fault. He chose to give into his weaknesses. It destroyed him and he destroys the lives of those whom he loves. Everybody has already given up on him. Even when I know I can't take it anymore, I still haven't given up on him. How could I? He's my dad. And without me loving him, who else would?

Chapter 6: 15-18 years old

" Everybody's A Rebel "

These were the worst years of my life. I had not realized it at the time but I became a different person. My depression had eaten me up alive. I was only a shell of my old self. I stopped caring. I stopped praying. I stopped loving. I just simply stopped.

I was like an automaton. I withdrew myself from people. I pulled away from my best friends and family and sought refuge elsewhere. I experimented with smoking in my third year of high school and drank alcohol during my graduating year. In the past, I had made several attempts on my life but somebody or something will always happen to stop me. But I didn't want to die. Weeks before graduation, I fought again with my dad. So, I went to the last days of school almost always drunk. One guy best friend of mine helped me by assisting me in school so the school authorities wouldn't notice anything amiss with me. I didn't see my dad again for two years after that.

In college, I went into different groups of friends. I was lost. I felt alone. The minute I feel like I have found my niche the rug would be pulled underneath me again and again. I was tempted to do drugs in my second year of college. Heck, my dad even said we could try some together in secret. I felt like everybody had a place and they knew what they were doing in each other's lives. I lost my will to live. I lost my purpose.

I wasn't living in these years of my life, I was simply existing.

Sure there were moments of happiness but they were so fleeting that I sometimes think as if it never happened. My dad was my shadow. I never measured up to myself. I wasn't pretty enough. I wasn't smart enough. I wasn't kind enough. I wasn't creative enough. I wasn't loving or tough enough. Each day took its toll on me. I became jaded. Weary. I felt like a 38 year old stuck in an 18 year old's body. I was far from my classmates. They were naïve and so ignorant of the things I've been through. Though, I am friends with them and close with some, they could never understand what I went through and what I am still going through as of the moment. The memories, the pain, the hurt, the joy that I have experienced, the things that I have learned….. They could never understand me.

I felt like I have been cheated of my childhood, of my youth, and of my innocence. Why is it that life had taken the blindfold off of my eyes quickly compared with others? Why was I forced to deal with things people my age shouldn't have to face yet? I felt like I've been exposed to the world's cruelty too early than others. These questions would constantly nag at me but I knew the answer. Life gave me all of these problems so I could help others, so that I can become stronger. God has something stored for me in the future. I don't know what it is yet but the pain ceases, bitter memories fade in their own time and all that is left are the lessons I learned from every painful experience I had to go through.

Books became my refuge. Writing and reading were all that was keeping me sane. They make me escape into another world where nothing is impossible and happy endings are guaranteed. I had no control over my life but in my writing, I can play God and make my characters feel what I want them to feel, say what I want them to say and do what I want them to do. I withdrew from the world and created my own where I could keep my sanity. I didn't think that I was already on the edge of the cliff. I thought I was okay and handling things well. I never thought that I was on the verge of giving up.

Chapter 7: 19 years old, At Present

" Haunting Reflections "

My depression besieged my words, my actions and my thoughts. I was bitter, angry, desolate but most of all hurt and lost. Only 19 years old and my life is already spiraling out of control. I was slowly becoming my dad. We thought the same… it was a scary thing.. Before he destroyed himself, his mind, I knew in my heart that what I see in him was me. It was my words that were coming out of his mouth. He wanted to help the downtrodden, to care for those who are shortchanged. Whenever we talk, I see more and more of myself in him . Am I destined to repeat my father's mistake? The saying, "Like father, like daughter" scares me enough to drive myself into my own grave. I didn't want to be a drug addict who abuses her spouse and traumatizes her children. I didn't want to hurt and destroy the lives of my loved ones. I wont waste myself away in the past full of bitterness, anger and pain. I was supposed to be somebody. I didn't want to be a shadow of my father.

I didn't know what to do. I was so overwhelmed and I wanted everything to stop. Things continued to pile up against me until I could take no longer. So, I gave up. I drank alcohol and overdosed.

Now, facing the aftermath of what I had done, I realized that I was sick. Truly and seriously sick. Others surprised me for caring so much of me. I never thought that a lot of people cared for me. I never thought that I had such a huge impact on their lives. Because I never measured up to myself. I felt worthless and useless. Seeing the effects of what I had done to others by trying to take my life had awakened me that I was worth something. That I was a person with worth. A person worth caring for.

I still have episodes, sometimes I even think I feel like I can't continue on going to school anymore because I don't know if I can still function. Everyday. I fight. I fight my depression off everyday to the very best of my abilities and even though I have prescribed medication from my psychiatrist, no drug can ever replace the will of the person to live, to fight back.

I am currently on the road to recovery and determined not to fail the people who love me. I cannot fail. These past weeks have showed me that people love me, appreciate me, value me and care for me. I didn't know how much I mattered to my family and to my friends. My depression turned me into an embittered selfish person. Now that I am taking my medication and slowly healing, I am beginning to get to know the person I truly am. I thought I wasn't worth saving, wasn't worth the trouble, but most especially, I thought I wasn't worth anything at all.

After being released at the hospital, I feel like I had truly died. I feel like a phoenix rising from the ashes, ashes that represented all the hurt, anger and pain that constantly weighed me down. I told my mom that it felt like I was starting life all over again, a rebirth. All that I have right now of my past are memories and lessons learned. I no longer carried any burden with me. I learned to accept things and people as they are. I learned to accept that there are things out of my control and that the best I could do is make the most of what I have right now. I learned to appreciate and value the people around me. Not only my loved ones and friends but also my enemies before and strangers I come across with. Because I believe everybody in my life, my teachers, friends, family and strangers I get to talk to by chance, I believe all of them play a role in my life. So, I learned how to smile. And smile genuinely for a long time in so many years… I learned to be friendly again. I learned that I am a good person inside… that depression not only took away my will to live and my loved ones from me but it ate away my kindness. It took away my heart.

I can honestly say that I am far from recovering but I am fighting, and that's what matters. I matter. And no matter how many times I think that that isn't true… I know that deep down inside that I am a person with worth. I matter and I am worth loving because I have so much to give and I know I can make a difference in this world. I promise myself to help others out there like me.

I promise to heal and do my best to heal others who have the same plight as I have. I promise to live my life fully, because when you almost die… when you feel like you're only a step away from life… you see… that life is beautiful despite the many things that plague its wonder… you see that life has so much to offer and people fail to see what God has given to us so freely without any reserve. You see God.

Chapter 8: Five Years From Now

"If There's A Will, There's A Way"

I once told others that there are many things we know, don't yet know and still want to know in life, that living once in this world can never be enough. I told them that even if we live ten lives, it still would never be enough. I had always been an ambitious person and I know that I am going to see my dreams and goals come true before I am six feet under. I used to be a weak willed person but after all that I have gone through, after reading what I have written in this paper, I can honestly say that I am a fighter and I would still be fighting in the years to come.

I can't give any specifics of where I will be and what I would be doing in five years or even ten years time from now, because life is ever unpredictable. Our decisions and our choices differ with time and they take us into places we never expected ourselves to be. I only know that I want to work abroad, travel, be recognized for my work globally ( yeah, right! But I can dream!), love everyone to the best of my abilities and to be stronger each day I live. Most especially, thank and ask God for forgiveness of what I had done.

In five years time, I would still be redeeming myself. In five years time, I would still be loving, caring, and most especially fighting. Because this time around, I promise myself, I promise God, I won't be going down without a fight.

A/N: If any of you, have depression or are simply feeling down in the dumps… please.. Tell others.. Tell people… find somebody who will listen. Don't keep it bottled up like I did. You need somebody. You are not alone. There are people out there who actually give a damn believe me. I am writing and posting this up because if by any chance there is somebody out there who is in the same boat as I am right now.. I want you to know that you have a purpose in this life. You matter and you should never think of taking your life or hurting yourself.

Our lives our all interconnected with one another. Whatever you say or do, it affects people around you whether you know it or not. Your family… friends… heck sometimes even the simple security guard you see everyday gives a damn about you.. Wonders about you.. So ask for help.. Be strong.

Saying you have depression that you need help isn't a sign of weakness. It's a sign of strength. Knowing and accepting your weaknesses is a strength a lot of people do not have. Be different. Be strong. Love life because then you will see… that life loves you back. I would be happy if I had helped any person out there right now. Don't be afraid. Fight. Fight back positively.

Make your anger your drive to fight back and show people your worth. Get mad.. Don't get even.. Make yourself adequate and you will see that you are a person worth loving and caring for. Most especially, do not let your happiness rest on others. It is not their responsibility to make you happy. YOU should make yourself happy. Because if you rely on people too much, you would always be disappointed. It is okay to draw strength from others, but mostly, YOU SHOULD DRAW STRENGTH FROM YOURSELF. HAPPINESS IS ONLY A THOUGHT AWAY. DEPRESSION IS A STATE OF MIND. YOU CHOOSSE TO BE DEPRESSED.

Stop thinking negatively and start thinking positively. It would do you a lot of good. SO FIGHT BACK POSITIVELY.