Defining myself has always been a difficult task for me. Whenever anyone asks who I am, I find myself momentarily stunned, lost in thought, only to resort to the same rehearsed paragraph...

""Hi! I'm [Insert name --> Gaba Lin], a [Insert current age --> 17] year old girl who's a bit awkward, overly energetic and is interested in mostly anything that can be of interest B). My favourite things are drawing, listening to music, researching the most random things and spending time with my friends, though I mostly end up playing games in my room all day.""

If you wish to know me better than that though, you've come to the right place. This is not social media. I do not have to sanitize my words or worry about an algorithm or be distracted by likes or follows. This is me and the ocasional visitor. I'm 17, I've been struggling with depression since I was about 13, alcoholism since I was 12, self-harm since I was 7 and anorexic thoughts since I can remember. I've always felt like something other than a person but I've been forced to fit in and destined to have my efforts never be aknowledged. I've dragged myself and will continue to until the friction of my journey is enough to stop the inertia that keeps me moving.

My true self has been scattered and torn by the storm, past a point of recognition. This is not the end though. I still have a faint glimmer of hope in me that I can one day pick up the shards and like kintsugi rebuild myself into something better than what once was...

Grieving... forever grieving.