dear depression you began as a childhood friend who saw the young children teasing me for my skin, my thick hair, and my mother.the woman who left her beautiful country,walk endlessly through the desert with only blessings and prayers.you depression made me an ungrateful child to this astonishing women.made me hate the skin and hair pass down to me and ashamed of my native tongue.ashamed of my mother and myself.you also saw when a man that was ‘family’ got to close and harmed me.you were there when I walked through the schools' doors and felt unwelcome.you made me believe that I was an outcast, a plague that would kill anyone that would get close to me.you depression are a disease, made me believe if nobody loved me, surely the tightrope did.and just recently you were there when I was diagnosed with an incurable disease.when I was prescribed medication and you trapped me in my thoughts and made me think the same question that has constantly lingered since my childhood,why me?headaches and loss of appetite was the result as I began thinking of an answer.maybe this was ‘karma’maybe I deserve all the bad things in life for being ashamed of my mother.till this day I don’t know the correct answer but I do know one thing.I forgive you depression.I forgive you.you’ve taught me self-worth, showed me that I can be loved and that I can love.my disease is not going to stop me from seeing the world.you depression taught me that my passion is helping others from you, showing them that you are not a disease that is incurable.that we can learn and grow from you and your lingering thoughts.you showed me that my skin, hair, and my mother are something to be proud of.that I’m proud of being the daughter of a hardworking woman.my native language and culture is something I should embrace.But most importantly, you taught me I am worth fighting for and I'm glad you've become one of my biggest push. love, maddi