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📓 Sunday, March 1, 2026 — 7:11 p.m.
Forgetting how you used to be.
But never disrespect yourself for that version you once thought was “bad.”
It was just a version learning in the dark.
2019.
CSULB.
Sitting in the waiting room for my first session with the school psychologist.
The room was full.
Different races. Different religions. Different majors.
Different stories.
No one exempt.
Up until that point, I thought I was alone.
Alone.
Beating myself up for what I didn’t know.
Older. Back in school. Feeling behind.
Earlier today I was driving through East L.A. and my mind drifted — it does that sometimes.
I remembered a girl from my 2-D perspective class.
Early 20s. Blonde hair. Blue eyes. Petite. Quiet.
Good artist.
I’ve always struggled with perspective — in art and in life.
So I did something that felt uncomfortable at the time.
I used office hours.
My professor was calm. Warm. Someone who loved teaching.
“You’re one of the few who uses my office hours. Actually… you’re the only one.”
That surprised me.
While she was helping me, we somehow started talking about how people struggle with things we can’t see.
Then she mentioned that same girl.
“You’ve noticed she hasn’t been in class.”
“Yeah. I was wondering what happened.”
“She’s dealing with depression and extreme anxiety.”
I didn’t know.
Crossing a bridge in East L.A. today, I thought about her.
I hope she’s doing better.
And I think…
I am too.
Not perfect.
But better.
Reader question:
When was the moment you realized you weren’t the only one carrying something heavy?
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