I have a confession: I wasn't okay. Five years is a long time; a long time to suffer in silence. Out of all the friends that I thought I had made, only two checked in on me from time to time. And I didn't want to burden them with what was going through my mind. No one asked "What happened?". Now you're asking? I was so tired- I was so stressed- I was suppose to be on break to readjust for an irl job... a job that broke me mentally. A job that I fled to go back to another- only to come back to everything falling apart around me. I thought they were a jerk, and still believe they were. I could of cared less of how they identified. Through these five years- it's been painful to draw. It only takes me back to the time where I lost everything I though I had, to a point where I truly wanted my life to end because I felt that I had wasted it with people who I thought cared. Who I thought were my friends. Well, I guess not. I've been on the healing path for a little while now. I've been