I sometimes wish that I was famous - traveling the world, meeting new people and doing new things. And, sometimes I wish I was invisible or that I could retreat to a foreign place where I will never be found. There is a thin line between how much I want these two things and an imaginary friend constantly pushing me to the latter. I am experiencing depression the way I have always experienced it, coming in swiftly with a slap across the face as a reminder that its there. Many months ago I shared something about myself that took a lot to do. Since then, I have been ridiculed for not actually understanding the seriousness of clinical depression and I have also been made privy to an even more serious diagnosis about myself.Hand in hand, the criticism and the depression walked lovingly through my mind, caressing the crevices of my brain with self-hatred and anger. I am still angry. I am still struggling with many personal issues. I am still trying to figure out who I am.