I wrote the following while feeling really depressed last night (it’s unedited and really personal but because this is a blog about writing for beginners I figured this may help someone out here):

I’m feeling that pain again. It sucks. 24 years, 6 months, and 24 days. This is how long I’ve been alive. Everyday I try and try again and trying hurts. A lot. But: 24 years 6 months and 24 days. I tried each and every one of those days. And I’m still here, trying, knowing that when I have my “good days” I’ll read this and go WTF suicidal Rosie… your posting shit to over 100 people to read, some of them family you don’t talk to much, let alone call. But I know some people among the 100 + that follow this silly stream of feeds knows what it feels like to be in this kind of pain and right now I’m thinking of little 14 year old me alone in her room without internet, with no working phone, in the dark, trying to suffocate herself with a plastic bag and all I want to do is make it so that anyone of my loved ones who is going through this pain knows what I didn’t know back then: you’re not alone; you’re are loved; life won’t always suck and you have to learn to live for those bright happy moments like the smile of a new born baby, a perfectly constructed line of poetry, moments where you see the good in others and can imagine a world where you don’t have this pain. ‘Cause if you can imagine it, it can happen. Humans are amazing that way, and you are human and therefore amazing. Remember that you’re not an “accident.” Remember that you’re not a “waste of space.” If not God, believe in Math: there is nothing in the universe that is not accounted for in math. You’re a part of an equation you will never know about or can even imagine the gravity of, but if you didn’t exist that equation would be lost. Lost forever. Like 2+2 4 instead of 2+2 = 4. Imagine the world without the concept of zero. Zero allows for us to have computers (google it), go into space, achieve great feats of wonder no other species can yet accomplish. And zero is nothing. Nothing but an idea. A human idea. You’re not nothing; you’re human. Therefore, greater than nothing. Don’t delete yourself from life’s equation, the ripple effect is beyond the pain you’re feeling now. It would stretch far and wide and hit people you never knew. For the worst. Never for the better. Live if only to know you played your role. Little me, if I could I would tell you all this because you needed to hear it from someone who understands, who went through hell with you and is still here. You’re in a better place, just not the one we thought we’d be in, but little me the outside world isn’t hitting us so hard any more. Little me, we’re helping ppl in small doses even if it feels like we’re up against a large concrete mountain with a platoon of Nazi-loving giants. We’re brave enough to face our demons each week, to wake up on start the day even when we still want to pretend to be dead. We no longer sleep for 3 months straight! We no longer hide in our rooms hoping for death by starving ourselves. Even on days when we do starve ourselves we get up and do things for others until we can eat. Little me, WE’RE THE ONLY TUTOR THAT RECEIVES HUGS FROM STUDENTS! Last semester we help over 10 brilliant young adults see that they were brilliant and, little me, isn’t that what our middle school teachers did for us? Didn’t we look like them: scared of failing an English class because we never learned what a 5 or 10 letter word meant? Now we’re teaching others! Little me, we had the balls to through a resignation letter to our supervisor on the grounds that we’d rather stay in school and learn to write our truths and chase our dreams even if we are constantly scared of failure. And that’s okay to still be scared of failure, that’s natural. We just have to face failure and be willing to try again and again and again. We haven’t failed until we give up and Little Me, you haven’t given up. This pain is proof of it. Death is scary because you stop feeling pain. You feel nothing; not even the relief from this. And that is scary.

Writing this felt very therapeutic in the moment. Yet, I woke up still feeling down today. I’ve been slowly getting back on my feet. Finally ate a nutella sandwich and had some water. Called my therapist, texted my loved ones, called a loved one, talked it out. Felt like if I kept reaching out the feeling would go away and it slowly did. Only got worst when I stopped, thinking that it wasn’t worth trying again. I sorta look like I’ve given up right now: still in my PJ’s with a mess up of papers at my feet and my curly hair going mad (I look like a cross between a mad-scientist and a 19th century writer who woke up from a bad trip). But I do feel better. To anyone, young writers, artists, random web surfers, etc who have gone or are going through pain, remember that it’s temporary, even if it doesn’t feel like it. And man, it never feels like it when you’re in the moment. When I do feel better (not 100%; I’m aiming for 75 or 80), I hope to make a poem from the above free-write. Maybe include more specifics. Heck, maybe this will start my new manuscript; I will call it, Things Do Get Better.

And they do.

Now watch Kid President.