The thing I wish I could impart to my depressed teenage self is just how short-lived my problems were. At the time, it seemed like misery had no end, so giving up seemed reasonable. Now I know I'd be fairly happy by 19, loving life by 23, and now I'm in my 30s and shits awesome.
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The “it gets better” coinage still bothers me because it inherently relies on behavioral changes and maturity.
The suicide rate of white men in their 40’s also paints a grim picture for it.
“It” doesn’t get better, “you” get better at handling it. Or you don’t.
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Yes. So if you’re a loser this round, aim for next round