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My therapist diagnosed me with mild depression and severe anxiety, instantly I felt like the odd child out of my entire family.
My family always tried to bring me in closer, but I always kept my distance because I knew I would never be like them.
My mom refused to accept the fact that I was depressed, which really did not improve the situation.
Every night she came and visited me and told me that I need to learn to cope, and every night she gave me a pen to write in my journal.
Every night I'd write my thoughts, most of which, being quite...Well, depressing.
To this day, I feel different from my family. As though we aren't even the same species.
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