Another year older.

Yesterday I turned 21.

So along with all the pomp that goes with 21 was the realization that I made it another year.

For someone who suffers from depression, and has experienced being suicidal off and on for years, this can be another reason to celebrate.

There have been a few times this year where the thought crossed my mind that there wasn't a point for me being alive.

Now that thought is different than wanting to kill myself.   Its more of me wondering if there was a reason, and not believing that I was meant to do anything.

But I've made it.

I'm now at the beginning of my attempt to make it through my 22nd year of life.

My 21st year was...interesting.  It had a lot of ups and downs, with some major downs that were brought on because of some of the wonderful ups, which seems to be about par for the course.

I've learned a lot about myself, and others.  I've experienced things and made life changing decisions.  Got over some things that kept me from having fun, and got rid of things that made me upset.

Made friends, and lost friends.

I danced, drank, flirted, learned, worked, performed, traveled to places alone.

Most importantly though, I lived.

I decided last year that I was going to do things that made me happy.  It was one of the things that was sort of a 'new years resolution' I guess.

Well.  I did.

And will all of the bad that happened in my 21st year of life.  There was a lot of great.