2025 has been a year

hey… i’m asha. i’m seventeen. and i guess i just needed to get some of this out because i feel like if i don’t say something soon, i might actually just vanish into myself.

i’ve always been really shy, like… the kind of shy where your throat just closes up when someone new tries to talk to you and you end up replaying every conversation in your head for hours wondering if you sounded stupid. i’ve struggled with depression for a long time. like, not just sad-days kind of depression. the kind that eats at you and makes you question why you’re still even trying. the kind that tells you the world would be quieter without you. and i hate that i’ve ever listened to that voice. but i have. more times than i want to admit.

it kind of started around sixth grade. that was when my best friend tried to end their life. and everything just… stopped. i remember feeling like the world wasn’t safe anymore, like it could all fall apart without warning. and it did. that same week, a girl i barely even knew told me i was a waste of air. told me i should just off myself. and then my grandpa died. i still remember the way my mom told me, like it was just another piece of bad news to get through. and i remember not being able to breathe. like the whole world was caving in on me.

i started self harming not long after that. and it’s not something i’m proud of, but it’s real. and honest. and sometimes it felt like the only thing that could make the pain in my chest make sense on the outside. i’ve gone through phases, trying to stop, then slipping, then trying again. i’m trying now, too. but it’s hard. especially lately.

i’m an only child. i always used to think that made me lucky, but really, it just meant i had front row seats to every fight my parents ever had. they bicker constantly, always loud, always right in front of me. and this year… everything sort of snapped. i’ve been bullied on and off for years. never anything huge, just enough to wear you down. to make you start wondering if maybe they’re right. maybe there is something wrong with you. and every year, i end up with a new group of friends, because people always leave. or i push them away without meaning to. or they just drift. and i try not to take it personally but how do you not? and the only people who’ve ever made me feel safe—my closest friends—left the school this year. now i’ll just walk the halls like a ghost, passing time. holding my breath until i can leave.

and then there was her. god. she was everything. i loved her so much. i still do, honestly, even though i know i shouldn’t. we dated for seven months and i swear i would’ve done anything for her. but on prom night—prom night—she broke up with me. in my car. told me she still had feelings for a guy in our friend group. blamed me for it. blamed her religious trauma. told me i was too much. like loving her so deeply was some kind of sin. i cried the whole drive home. didn’t even change out of my dress before curling up in bed and just breaking.

after that, things with my mom got worse. like, screaming every night kind of worse. slamming doors, saying things we can’t take back.

then came the sat. i’d been studying for months, trying to convince myself it’d be worth it, that this stupid test might open a door to something better. and minutes—literally minutes—after finishing, my dad tells me they’re getting divorced. just like that. like dropping a plate on the floor and walking away. i didn’t even get to breathe before the next blow hit.

and now… now i think my mom’s seeing someone else. while my parents are still married. i’ve seen the messages. seen the way she smiles at her phone and hides it when i walk in. seen the late nights and the perfume she only wears when she’s going somewhere she won’t tell me about. and it just feels like too much. like i’m carrying this whole mountain on my chest and no one even notices i’m struggling to stand.

i’ve been spiraling. crying almost every night. relapsing more than i want to admit. and no one really knows because i’m the quiet one. the one who smiles at the hangout and says “i’m fine” even when i’m not. but i’m not fine. i’m tired. i’m lonely. i’m scared of what i might do if i keep going like this. and i guess i just needed someone to know that. even if it’s just words on a screen.

so yeah. i’m asha. i’m seventeen. i’m trying. even when it doesn’t look like it. even when it feels like the world is too heavy. i’m still here. and that has to count for something. right?