What is it in us that finds the strength to live when everything has fallen apart and it seems as if there is no hope? That odd rejuvination at the end of everything has been one of the most amazing things in my life. When it seems like nothing's left, when it seems like everything has liquified and run away, I find this rock-solid place within myself, at the bottom of everything.

Yesterday was the last day of school. I survived my junior year, somehow. This is the first year since eighth grade that I've had really stressful outside circumstances that justified my depression. The past few years I've pretty much just made myself miserable. But, it means another year has gone by during which, miraculously, I have managed to keep my 4.0 GPA through the bulimia and cutting and debilitating depression. Maybe there's something wrong with that. Maybe it's bad that I will let everything else go before I let my grades go. I know that for a lot of really depressed kids grades are the first thing to go. I'm not sure why they are the last for me. I'm not sure why they matter so much. They probably shouldn't. I should probably care more about being happy than having A's. But it does make me feel better that no matter what happens to me, I will fight to have that consistency in my life, those A's on my report card. I think that ultimately what keeps me hanging on to my grades is that they are the last thing separating me from my brother, and years ago when I swore I would never be like him, part of that promise was that I would always care about my grades and do well in school.

I feel so weak. I don't know how I'm doing this. Every day I keep getting these urges to do things like cut, but somehow I don't. I don't understand where my ability to keep breathing is coming from. I don't understand why I suddenly want so badly to live. There's been so many times where I've thought my life was so unfair, because there were so many people dying of cancer and car accidents that wanted to live when I was healthy and all I wanted was to die. The funny thing is though that even when I was that depressed, I think that if I got cancer I'd want to live. I think that if I ever die young I want it to be that I chose it, that I killed myself, not that something else killed me. Something in me always fights. Something in me can't give in when it's the outside forces hurting me. I'll let the inner deterioration run its course, but the second you try to hurt me or try to force me into something, I will fight you. I'm the only one allowed to hurt me. It's control. It's safety.

But I'm alive. This summer will be busy. I have to work five hours a day on my PCR and southern blots in the genetics lab. I'm going to read a lot. I'm going to practice violin a lot. I'm going to understand why I want so badly to live. I'm going to make it so I'm not miserable next year. I'm going to do something, anything, to uncover that rock place inside of me and build all of my hopes on it instead of the shiftiness they're built on now.

I haven't forgotten, either, that the rock is God.