That story is no longer me

Four and a half years ago, I could not wait to die. Every aspect of life was the worst from school to home, from day to night. I don’t think it was specifically someone’s fault, I think it was a little bit of everything. I think for a lot of years I was stuck in the role of helper, that I forgot that I was important too. I forgot what it was like to be a kid and have fun. I forgot how it felt to be happy, to be surrounded by friends and feel fulfilled. Now I realize that the only person that my strongest relationship, that is going to take work and time is the relationship I have with me because people should not be the reason I feel fulfilled because it implies that I am empty without them. They are as important as I but we are not there to fill something within each other that isn't something totally separate from our being.That is too much of a sacrifice and one that I nor anyone should feel the need to make. I am me, my friends are there for me to support and me to be supported by them.In no way do I regret how my life went because without it, I wouldn’t have gotten the chance to reflect on the experience and become the person I am today. I am not the best version of myself but by every mean I am trying to be. I am a work in progress and I am not ashamed of it. I should not be expected to carry the weight of the world but I should still seek to make my words heard. That is my challenge, that is my reason to be here because four and a half years ago my words were  too silent that someone could mistake them for a gust of wind that produced an ambient sound, they were so hardly distinguishable within the mass of voices who many times overpowered my own. Now my voice is heard and it does not spiel nice words nor does it thank the world for giving it the space and the time. For so many years whenever people wanted to hear my story, it was that day and now I am searching for what defines me, what made me because that story is a part of me, but that story no longer is me.