Scars run deep. As a child, I was abused by a man who was a victim of immense abuse. As a stabilizer, that man turned to alcohol and drugs to cope. On the verbal side, this man would tell me so often how I owed him for all that he was doing for me, how I was a problem, and someone else's at that. As I got older, the things he would say to me became so much more vile. He told me how I was in his house and nobody wanted me there, and how I was only there because my mother wanted me there. The physical side was much worse. I was punched, slapped, kicked, stomped, and hit with extension cords and belts alike. All of this made me look at my mother, who was married to this man, very differently. It made me wonder what was going on in her mind. Was my mother too afraid to leave all that time? Looking back, I ask myself, Did my mother have depression? I have no clue. I couldn't understand why it happened then, but maybe now I do. At the age of 8 years old, I was sexually assaulted by a trusted family member who had been assaulted himself. I couldn't understand why it happened then, but maybe now I do.  At the age of 18, I was sexually assaulted by a 22-year-old woman that I wasn't even dating yet. Yes. I ended up dating her. I can't understand why. Was I too afraid to go? Do I have unhealthy attachment issues? I'm not sure. I couldn't understand why it happened then, but maybe now I do. It took me such a long time to formally address the fact that what she did to me was sexual assault. In my mind, I had the thought drilled in my mind that men can't be sexually assaulted by women. Impossible. I'm a man. I'm a 5'9" male with an afro, and yet, I was sexually assaulted. This threw a wrench into my linear path of thinking because if the thought of men being raped is impossible, then... am I impossible? To be worthy of love? To be worthy of good things?  As a 20-year-old man, I have now been diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder, major depressive disorder, and generalized anxiety disorder. I frequently struggled with thoughts of self-harm and struggled throughout my life with it. As a black man, I was told, "Nobody cares." and "You're a man; you have to be strong." So, at 18, when I got to college and found a therapist, I was, surprisingly, not afraid to reach out and seek help. Maybe because I had felt inside for years that something was wrong.  I recall that in the fall of my freshman year, I was planning to commit suicide. I told my therapist about it, and I recall her shedding tears, and I remember thinking, "Why does she care? It's just me. I'm sand on a beach." What I didn't realize at the time, and still struggle to realize at times, is that every individual piece of sand on a beach matters. All of it makes the beach look exactly like that. If there was no sand on a beach, it wouldn't be much of a beach.  So then, how is any of this relevant, you ask? Well, I couldn't understand why it happened then, but maybe now I do. You see, we bleed all over people who haven't cut us if we don't bandage our wounds. As you all have read, people who I hadn't cut bled all over me. Unfortunately, sometimes I bleed all over people who have not cut me. Sometimes I lash out, sometimes I shut people out and off, sometimes I say cruel things, and sometimes I think cruel thoughts. All because I have unpatched wounds.  After experiencing everything that I have, it's somehow taught me empathy. If I saw myself walking around on the street and sparked a conversation, looked straight into my own eyes, and said, "Hi," I don't believe that I would ever expect any of this to be said.  My relationships are unstable and short-lived, maybe because I'm still working to become a stable individual who wants to live long.  My goal of becoming a black mental health therapist has been shaped by all of these experiences. Ironically, I want to work in the mental health field to help not only people like me but also people who have done such drastic damage to me.  But above all, everything has made me understand that everyone is suffering. Life is too short to let people suffer.  Scars run deep but we can bandage them before it's too late.