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Depression Is Not The End

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Once upon a time there was a little girl. A little girl who thought that she was all alone in the world. She had no one who understood her. No friends to confide in. Even her family didn’t really “get” her. They loved her, of course, and she loved them, and they were close, but she didn’t really let them into that dark place inside, at least not all the time.  The little girl would cry week after week because she was alone. She found solace in writing. She found solace in writing out her pain, writing about tearing her body open with knives and letting the blood run free. But none of it really helped. It helped her express herself, and feel like some of that negativity floating around in her was gone. It helped her cope. But it didn’t heal her. This went on for quite some time on and off. Some days were better than other days. Some months were better than other months. Some years were better than other years. But the darkness lingered around her like a dark shroud. The