The hardest part of learning to live with myself was learning to accept that I wasn't selfish for being depressed, that there was a future left for me where I wasn't fated to live as a husk of myself until the end of my days.
I don't know when my erosion began. I don't know when I began to pull away, to pull inside, to let myself be defined by what I thought I lacked. I don't know when I…