I feel compelled to make this clear. Right now, as I embark on talking extensively about my mental health struggles, I want to say that my issues don’t define me. Admittedly sometimes it feels that way, but it isn’t the case, not really. I don’t want to lose sight of that and I don’t want anyone who ever reads this now or in the distant future to think that I am defined by an illness or that everything I say and do revolves around it. I am more than that. I have interests, loves and passions, I care about the world and the people on it, I have much I wish to accomplish and am driven towards achieving, in some way, no matter how small, a positive impact on the world. And even though sometimes I lose sight of all of that in the funk or fuzz of the highs and lows that typify a stupid brain, at my core I am a genuine, compassionate human being who wishes nothing more than to be a source of light in this world in any way I can, because heaven knows there’s way too much darkness.