Then I met him. The one who would change everything – my views, my thoughts, my needs; he changed them all.

We met at twenty-one, in a music theory class.

He sat there, across from me, just staring at me. He’d smile every time our eyes met. Funny thing is that my heart and my eyes weren’t directed towards him, but his friend who was sitting next to him.

“I like him.” A scary confession.

“What?! No! You can’t like him, he’s a player! Why don’t you like his friend instead?” Said my friend.

“How is he a player?”

“He just sleeps with girls whenever he wants, he doesn’t care!”

That turned me off. I had liked this guy for a whole semester and now I find out that he’s actually a player? Ugh. I blushed and smiled towards someone who didn’t care about others’ feelings and who just wanted to play with people. I cried that day, I felt so sad and defeated.

--

“Let’s go to a play!” My friend exclaimed. A week had passed since I found out the devastating news of my now ex-crush.

“Sure!” I decided to go.

“I have an extra ticket, who should I give it to?”

Turns out she gave it to my ex-crush’s friend. That night we sat next to each other in the theater. We talked and talked and laughed so much, it was the best theater experience I’ve had in a very long time. It was surprising. We all then went to a restaurant afterwards and we clicked. We just vibed so well. A week later my friend invites him to hang out with us again, this time to a cookout. Again, we clicked instantly. Laughing and joking around, as if though we knew each other for the longest time.

A week later, he asks me out on a date. Then we go out some more. And more and more. We were now stuck at the hip, never leaving each other’s side. But we’d never admit we were together. If anything, we were in a grey area, we didn’t really know what we were. Then one day, we go see another play together, then never see each other again…

Until February, where we finally have a heart-to-heart and decide to be together again. Then one day in March I tell him, “Hey, if you want this to be official, you’re going to have to ask me out.” And so he does, but I reject him. I didn’t think he asked me properly and made him ask me two more times. He asked until I said yes, and now we’re inseparable.

When my depression got worse, he was right there by my side. I felt like I had a lifelong partner ready to help me at any time. And I needed him. My depression had gotten so bad that I couldn’t take it anymore. With suicide now stuck in my head, he urged me to go to a psychiatrist.

“I think you should get medication.” He said.

“I really don’t want to.” I replied.

“Why not? It would help you.”

“Because it feels like I’m losing. If I take medication, it’s like admitting that I couldn’t do more for myself. That I was now losing the battle of depression. I don’t want that. Medication is the last resort for me.”

“But medication will help stop the suicidal thoughts and it’ll help you get over your lowest moments. Truthfully, I think you need it. You’re having such a hard time. I’m worried about you.”

He made a good point. I realized that I was already at my lowest and that I was already losing. By being suicidal I was already in need of help, I just didn’t want to admit that.

“Ok.” I caved in. “I’ll set up an appointment.” I felt defeated. I was in need of help and it hurt that this was the only thing that would seem to help me. The only thing that would cure me. It felt awful to have to give in to the thing that I least wanted. But I needed the help, and so I went to my first psychiatrist appointment.