I have spent so many summers alone in my room, seeing how many episodes of a show I can watch between 11am and 5am. Summer is not a cure for depression, of course, but I, personally, am in a much better, safer, happier place than I was at this same time last year. I do not hate the outdoors; I find the sun refreshing, the breeze is a calm I can find nowhere indoors. My friends are the most important things to me, and I vow to cherish their company as much as I possibly can.
All this acts as is a short, cliché post about summer and life. What I’d like to say is, as much as it may not seem as so, things do so often get better. The sun and the breeze can become your friend. The constant company of people can become comforting and not suffocating. You can, too, get to a place where dreaming about the things you might do makes you happy; where you can not only see yourself continuing to live, but can see yourself thrive.
I do apologize for the triteness. But, may you not lose hope.