Ashamed. I wish I could go back in time to when I was 19 years old and somehow convince myself that I’m worthy of happiness and self-respect regardless of what I am, what has happened to me, and whether or not I have anyone in my life to help me see that. I’ve lost a third of my lifespan to unchecked anguish and self-destruction, and I have the scars to forever remind me of that. I feel aged, worn, and disfigured, with hardly anything to show for it.