I know I’m late to this, but thank you. My parents were very abusive while I was growing up. I don’t think that trauma will ever leave my mind for as long as I live.

We need each other’s support and care to survive, and though I may just be a person through the screen that draws art, just know that whatever you are going through, or what you have gone through, that I hope you get better, and overcome this dark time, as it’s never permanent.

No, I’m not. My mental health has been in shambles for twenty years now, with very few slight ‘ups’ and a lot of free-fall ‘downs’. The ‘help’ I truly want is the help nobody wishes to provide. What’s holding me back is a mixture of cowardice and the desire to not hurt the few people I care about. Every day starts with a disappointed thought: Oh, I woke up again. Every day is a battle, as everything craves every drop of what little energy I have. My own memories haunt me, mistakes, guilt, regret. I am my own judge, jury and executioner. I flee from every aspect of this world, this life and this person at every opportunity I get. But you can never truly get away from yourself.
I don’t want ‘help’. I don’t want to get ‘better’. I want out.
But that’s my choice. An unpopular one, I’m sure. I would never encourage anyone else to make that very same choice. Quite contrary. If you can - stay. If you can - talk. If you can - help. Yourself, sure. But those around you as well. No person exists in a vacuum. We’re all sheep, at the end of the day. Herd animals. We need each other.
Help those around you. Give it your all. And when the time comes, at least try to accept help in turn.
Good luck.