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My ears are ringing from the screams coming from above. They were at it again. My sister and my dad had engaged in another combat of words most likely about her future after graduating from high school.

I’m part of a generation that uses Adderall like they’re skittles, who use Xanax as often as I use my car, who abuse Ambien like I abuse my bank account on Chipotle. Abusing prescription drugs is seen as “cool” yet when I’m reliant on an antidepressant just to get through my day to day life I’m looked upon as “mental.” I have never seen a bigger stigma against mental health than in the halls I walk every day. I once took a psychology class.

Dear Whoever Needs To Hear It: It’s OK. It’s OK to feel this way. It’s OK to need attention.

Sometimes I feel like there is no darker place on Earth than inside my head. I have thoughts floating around that revert me back to the past; a place I seldom wish to go. There used to be days when I was too scared to move for fear that the memories of her would will me to make a fatal life decision.

In the world we live in today, it is often easy to feel brushed aside or unimportant. Our days move by at lightning speed, never seeming to slow down for a moment to give us time to catch our breath. Because of this, people are often so concerned with achieving their goals that they neglect to recognize those around them.

It was a Tuesday night, aside from coming home from school, my mom had not seen me. Just like every other day, my room was my safe haven. To me it felt that as long as I was wrapped up in my comforter, then the real world couldn't reach me.

In July of 2013, I was diagnosed by the Mayo Clinic Hospital with a rare blood disorder that ultimately ended my basketball career. Since 2010, I have also developed severe ulcerative colitis, Addison’s disease, orthostatic hypotension, arterial hypertension, and diabetic hypoglycemia. I have spent so many days in the hospital that they wrote “Welcome Back” in my room during my last overnight stay.

I walk through a day of unmet glances, of silence. I want so much to feel something. It feels like the world is sharing this intimate secret and they didn’t bother to include me in it.

“Love is a desire for and a delight in the well being of the one loved; to active and a self sacrificing effort on their behalf” (Cooper P. Abrams III). In the midst of an unimaginable hardship, a single friendship may save a struggling teens life.

There are a thousand different experts saying a million different things about teen depression and suicide. There are PSAs and campaigns that fight to get the word out about the “truth.” But the fact is, we see it. We have friends who are depressed and we struggle with how to help them.

When my father taught me how to swim, we started with treading water. I watched my father, his torso above water, slightly bobbing up and down. But no matter how hard I tried, my arms ended up flailing about and my body oscillated between partially to fully submerged beneath the water.

As a sophomore, my parents got divorced and I sustained two concussions within two months and have suffered from post-concussion syndrome (PCS) ever since. I went from being an honors student who never needed help to being enrolled in special education. I wasn’t able to do things with my friends because often I didn’t feel well enough, and after a while they got tired of me not being able to, so they stopped asking.

It is strange- to feel alone but be surrounded by thousands of people. My heart ached, I cried non-stop, couldn’t eat, sleep, or motivate myself to do anything. In an instant it seemed like everything had been taken from me.

During dinner one evening, you hear on the news of a teenager’s suicide. Usually, you would shake your head at the tragedy and then continue to eat. But that night, you wonder.

Getting help was the hardest part. I was suicidal for about four months, and for a large part of it, I was coping. I managed to go through my life with very little change, because if my trash was suddenly filled with torn-up scraps of half written notes, no one else noticed.