Preface: What can I say about this piece? I think the new millennial, those of us born between 1994-1996, deal with mental health differently than older millennials, older people in general really. I think that not all of us were properly prepared to adopt this world and what it means to be an adult. In other words, I think the majority of us have had it easy up until now; and now that we’re essentially on our own, we do not have healthy ways of expressing or coping with what it is we are experiencing. That’s what this piece is about, me struggling to conceptualize and adapt to that which is my new reality.


I think I should go back to therapy. Yeah go back. I had gone to therapy before because I was insecure and paranoid. My therapist diagnosed me with mild depression, but my time with the therapist proved to be inconclusive. She said I was strong and capable of overcoming my challenges; and that’s what did. I conquered those mountains. But now I’m at a new mountain. The mountain of life, and I think I should go to therapy.

What good am I? A question I ask myself often. I have a college degree about to receive a masters but the world says I’m not even worth a job worthy of my accolades. Enough experience to land a day job yet here I am in a warehouse working an overnight shift. I have an apartment with no refrigerator and A bank account with a negative $435 balance. I think I should go to therapy.

Sometimes I hate being black, sometimes I hate being myself. See, being me comes with enough baggage as is, now throw in the fact that I’m a N***** to society and someone please tell me what value I have? I think I should go to therapy.

I have these lofty goals and dreams with no means of achieving them. Fuck dreams. Death seems so palatable to me sometimes, like what if I just checked out. A couple weeks ago during my job search I received an email response from a dishwasher position I applied to. They turned me down. For the next two hours I contemplated hurting myself. Not killing myself just making myself bleed, just allowing myself feel something. I think I should go to therapy.

Life has beat me up so much. Yet in all my loathing I feel as though I’m ungrateful. I hate that. Sometimes I just want to feel bad. Is it okay to feel bad or sorry for myself sometimes? Sure I have a roof over my head food to eat and clothes on my back but relatively speaking; can I feel bad for myself relative to what I’m experiencing? I think I should go to therapy…

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