I hate the fall.
I didn't always hate the fall. Ten years ago this fall, I fell into (actualized?) my depression. There was one event that broke my heart in a thousand different ways. I was so sad, so unhappy, so insecure that depression took over. Being unhappy became my life. I lost trust. I lost hope. I lost faith. And then I decided that I wanted to kill myself.
My suicidal thoughts were my everything. I constantly thought about how, where and when I would. I thought about my funeral. I thought about what my ex-friends would say and the regret they would feel.
The friends who took me under their wing were my saviors. I didn't know it at the time, but I do know. I am so grateful they stuck by my side during that fall and through the winter. They continued to stay by my side through high school and I stood by their sides. Things may not have always been perfect, but during the fall of 2002, they were there. They were the only four people who I trusted and who I knew loved me.
I fell in love with Harry Potter that fall.
I fell in love with RENT and became immersed in theatre that winter.
Everything that I am passionate about was discovered that fall. I was truly shaped by that fall.
This is my introduction to my new blog series, Dear 13-Year-Old Kelly. On the tenth anniversary of certain events, I will be writing letters to my younger self. I want to recount what happened and try to explain to her that while everything sucks right now, it's going to get better and that she needs these events to become the person she is ten years later.
These events have really stuck with me and frankly, I need to get over them. They happened. I need to make peace with them and move on. This is me trying to move on.
So thank you for reading. And most importantly, thank you for being my friend.