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My second passion is to become a performer, but it may not happen for a while.

I'm currently in college studying media design, pursuing the dream of becoming a creator. I'm not sure about handling life yet considering that I faced a bunch of battles between myself and mental health for several years. I tried my best to pursue this dream, but it always comes at a cost.


I always doubt myself, but at least some people that I've met throughout the years have been supporting me. To bring joy to others. To bring a community together. To inspire people to not give up on their dreams. I always wanted to bring happiness to people, but I never got a chance to say anything to them. I'm introverted; I never like talking to people about my feelings.

I don't know what to say to them, especially something that triggers my past. I never had a good life nor had a bad life.

Why Am I Here?

I have some ups, and I have some downs. Story writing copes my sadness. It copes my anger and makes me feel better sometimes. I even think about what I wanted to write about next. The world's a scary place sometimes.

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But at least you have something to cope with. So again; why am I here and who am I? I'm still asking myself. My life is still not complete. I need to find my true self before I lost myself. Creating stories is my passion, whether real experiences or not.

Friends, many Canadians today suffer from success and the trials that come with achieving success… Therefore, in an effort to begin this brand new year on an unhelpful note, I offer these humble insig The sun rises in the east and sets in the west. This will always be true even after you and I are long gone. It will never stop happening that way, unless some universal phenomenon occurs. Hopefully b Instead, we We all want to make the world a better place except on those days where we wouldn't mind watching it burn, either , but such a concept seems impossible and nostalgic, at best.

Corruption, fraud, huma How do you know who are you are? I am 22 years of age and I've always lived this life I was comfortable with. I did the same th Remember when you were 12 years old? Really think about it. The biggest stress day-to-day was hoping your crush with the J-Bieb haircut would pop up on your MSN and rushing home so you d Why Am I Here?

Why am I here?

7 Strange Questions That Help You Find Your Life Purpose | Mark Manson

That is the question. The other question I ask myself is this: who am I? Why did I choose this path? So, my question I keep asking myself; why am I here? Those were the only two times I had ever attempted to stop using on my own. At the welcome home party, held in an old farmhouse they lived in near Windsor, Connecticut, I had taken far too much of something being passed around, and had made my way upstairs to the bathroom, thinking I was about to get sick.

Next thing I knew, I was up on the ceiling of the hallway outside the bathroom, looking down at a crowd of my friends standing over a body I quickly realized was my own. But, I was up on the ceiling! I would have freaked but for the fact that I felt so good up there. I embraced that moment.

I knew, from then to now, that death was not to be feared. However, something drew me down that hallway and into that bedroom. There, my friends were all gathered around my body, sprawled out on the bed, jerking and twitching, all freaking out and trying to get me to come to. All, that is, except for my best friend. He calmly led me back into my body.

I was never the same after that moment.

Seeking, and finding, the answer to that critical question

For the first time, I knew I had a reason to live. I just had to figure out what that reason was. I received the devastating news five days later that Reed had died.

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That question was finally answered at my first N. I was drawn to it. A guy named George, the first one to reach out to me there, extending a hand of welcome and friendship, helped me to know I was home. But would that be enough?

Have you ever asked yourself this question “Why am I here”?

In fact, neither did they. They wondered whether I would stick. I was a lot older than most of them. Barb needed rides to and from the meetings, and I had wheels, a brand new Toyota Corolla. I was doing well in life at the time, a good job, nice apartment, all the trappings of success were finally flowing my way, after struggling mightily for two years after being discharged from the navy as a complete burnout.

The V. Up until recently, I had been on lithium for the condition, and taking the rougher edges off my condition by getting high. George helped me realize the difference between sobriety and clean time. I was five days clean at that first meeting. I wanted to stay that way. I finally knew why I was here, and never wanted to get high again.

I instinctively knew that was keeping me from answering my many questions about life. I needed to stay clean to truly find out, and I wanted to find out. Three weeks into it, I drove up to Connecticut to let my tribe know what was really going on with me. We had turned to each other to get through that grief.