warning: this is a little long-winded to start

When my mother adopted my sister from china (around 2003, i was 12, my sis was 3), we took her (my sister) to a therapist to try and understand radical detachment disorder better, and possibly nip it in the bud (which we later found out was pretty much impossible). I really liked the therapist, and continued to see her of my own accord. She diagnosed me with clinical depression at the age of 16, and didn't believe in medicating me (as do many medical professionals) until i was older. High school happened, and my depression pretty much turned into heavy (and i do mean HEAVY) drug use. i was depressed, so i would use, then i was depressed because i used. My therapist constantly insisted on rehab, and it reached a boiling point where i attempted suicide. Eight hours after the attempt, i decided to quit the drugs (caffeine, alcohol and nicotine excluded) cold turkey, and have stayed true for 1671 days.

i am in a love-hate relationship with my depression. i keep it in check very well without medication. i learned a valuable lesson though, and it actually manifested itself in a Nice Hooves song, "warpaint is not a mask." A lot of depressed people i know do whats called "game-face" which is faking being happy to get through the day. i refuse to do this anymore. "warpaint is not a mask, my friend. its a sign of reaching your end." If you are sad, let it out. you shouldn't have to hide your emotions just to appease people. we have different emotions for a reason. let those feelings out.