My eyes open, my heart pulsating in my chest, my lungs collect and dispel air slowly, deeply.

      I’m  alive--physically.
   
      Mentally, emotionally, I’m a step away from death. Just barely clinging to existence. My feelings consist of a devoid air most would consider empty, but not me. No, not me. I know empty all too well and this slim air contained in my soul is not empty. I’m barren of any consciousness, any emotion.
  It's back.
  That feeling of hopelessness, loneliness, nothingness.
Depression.
  Far from sadness. Far from sanity. I climb into my cold, slender bed alone; too many thoughts pushing themselves against my head, creating a constant throbbing migraine that never seems to cease. I shrivel into myself, my rustled movements reverberating through the silent room I call home. I try to find myself in the darkness, failing I flip onto my other side, then onto my back. I can never decide, can never focus on what I want, even concerning the most simplest of tasks. It's devouring me whole. Every part of me is consumed by its constant presence in my life, in my body, in my mind. I try to fight. Every day, every night, I fail. I just can't seem to help myself and constantly give up, thinking this fight is impossible.

      Five years fighting a constant battle between heart and mind, between soul and sanity. I start to weep.
I can’t do this. I can’t do this.
I push up from my bed, trembling. Terrified and determined, I wipe the tears from my face. I grab a notebook and pen and begin to write.
I’m so sorry. I can’t take this anymore. This feeling, this... constant barrage of despair and nothingness is too much. It’s too much and I. I can’t. I’m not that strong, I’m not that strong and I hope. I hope you can forgive me, and understand. This sickness inside me, it, it infects my whole being. My mind, my soul, my body. I can’t stop hurting myself. I can’t stop crying and I can’t even fake a smile now. It’s breaking me. It’s broken me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I love you. I do. I love you all so much. Please, please don’t cry.
I sign my name, and set it down. I’m trying so hard to breathe, but my breathing is shallow, rushed, panicked. I’m about to die. I’m about to be free from this sickness and I’m petrified. I take a deep breath, wipe the streams of tears from my face and close my eyes.
God, please forgive me.
I stand, my legs quiver as I walk to my kitchen and open the medicine cabinet. I grab pain killers, sleeping pills, anything I can find. Unscrewing the caps, I become strangely calm. Senseless. I dump them into my palm and just hold them—staring. My palms begin to sweat and the pills stick to my skin. I take a deep breath and lift my hand to my mouth.
I swallow.
I curl into myself and find peace.
Relief.

Thirty minutes later...

My stomach aches. An unbearable pain spreads through my chest and my eyes blur. I try to stand and stumble to the sink; I lean over and vomit over and over. My body trembles uncontrollably, my head is swirling with nausea and dizziness. I slide back from the sink and fall to the floor, beginning to violently sob.
Oh, god. What have I done? I don’t want to die. I don’t want to die, I want to live. And get married and be happy and have children. I want to smile again, I want to find my faith, be better. Please God don’t let me die. I want to live.
I pass out.

The next day...

“Why are you laying on the kitchen floor,” my mom asks, poking me with her foot. I slowly unfurl, still nauseous, dizzy and weak, I shakily stand.
“Sorry... I didn’t feel good so I wanted to stay next to the sink.” I lie. I didn’t want her to know she almost lost her youngest daughter. That she struggles with thoughts of suicide and self harm. I wanted to seem okay. I was determined to be okay.
“Go lay down then,” she says, furling her eyebrows at me as she walks past. I slowly walk myself over into the living room and sit on the floor.
I’m alive. Oh god, I’m alive.
The slightest smile fleets across my face. Newfound hope grows in my heart; I can feel life inside my chest, like flowers blooming inside. I will live. I will be okay.

One month later...

Ping!
My phone sounds and I reach for it. An old friend from church sent me a picture.
God, we haven’t talked in years.
I smile, opening it and laugh; she tried to dye her older brother’s hair and it had somehow come out bright, ginger red. I buckle over, in tears, he looked ridiculous. I remember I had always had a crush on Travis when I saw him at church meetings, his sister, Alyssa, and I were best friends for years, though I never really talked to him. I reply with a picture of me smiling, and he replies with a picture, laughing at himself.
We slowly begin talking. Talking until five in the morning and laughing.
God, I haven’t been this happy in...Ever.
We slowly fall in love. I had found my happiness, my hope. I still struggle but, I smile. I’m smiling, finally.

Sixth months later...
I’m visiting Travis and his family for a couple weeks down in Southern California. We drive up to see his father’s grandparents and visit.
“We should go for a walk,” Alyssa suggest, smiling at Travis.
“We should! Oh, babe, can we, pleeeaaase,” I beg, I would love to wander and see the horses next door and the neighborhood surrounding us, trees at every corner and flowers blooming despite the dry desert weather.
“Sure, let’s go,” he says and we leave, walking towards a geocache. God it was beautiful out here. We walk uphill and find the geocache hidden in a large, old tree. I stand, smiling, watching Travis write our names down. He finishes and I turn to leave,
“Hold on, I have something for you,” he says, pulling a letter from his backpack. I smile, grabbing it and begin to read. His tiny, sloppy handwriting makes me smile, but the words make me cry. He explains how much he loves me and how he wants to walk through life with me. I cover my mouth and look down at him, he’s on one knee, with his arm extended and at the end he’s holding his mother’s diamond ring.
“Will you spend the rest of your life with me,” his hands are trembling as he says it, I can hear the nerves in his voice. I lean down, a smile spreading wider over my face and hug him, squeezing tightly around his shoulders.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I whisper, and he slides the ring onto my finger.

I found my happiness. My true smile. And I will live, always, with him.