If you asked how far it could take me, back then, I would have told you and easy “To infinity and beyond.” Ask me now, however, and I’d tell you that it gave me nothing but a black hole within my chest, demanding me to feed it constantly, to the point that I lost control and my body grew a conscience of it’s own.
I blamed life for this. I wondered for nights why it was so unfair, when all I wanted was to live, for a change. Why me? Why did I have to fall into a pit deep enough to get myself shipped to rehab for a year, forcing me to miss my own graduation, when others were doing the same thing and were still able to smile for pictures with a diploma in their hands and their records clean. Where was the justice? For months, I asked myself these questions because I couldn’t forgive life, nor could I forgive the only person I saw in the mirror for 365 days in an isolated room.
Even now I can’t say that what I went through was a good thing. But, if there were one thing I’d wish that I could tell 17-year-old me, it would be that life isn’t an injustice; it just is. Maybe this was my lemonade; that I was meant to fall into a pit just so I could learn how climb back up all by myself. It may have been the hardest way possible, but it wasn’t impossible. And, I can’t change the past, but what I can do is forgive myself and move on.
And so, I have.