My entire life has been one long, aimless journey through different shades of the same hopeless depression, making dubious assurances that if nothing else, the future won’t hurt as much. The only thing that has kept me sane through all the excruciating loneliness is the vague, shadowy hope that maybe one day I will find someone who will make everything better.

Someone who will give me a chance instead automatically disregarding me as yet another hopeless case. Someone who isn’t put off by my awkward demeanor and who finds my shyness adorable. Someone who perseveres in being kind to me until I finally realize that someone finally wants me. Someone who continues to care, even though everyone else has given up long ago. Someone whose very presence makes the pain go away. Someone who will listen to my rants and hold me when I cry. Someone who is proud of me when I take another step out of the shell of my past and who is still there if I fall down again. Someone who understands that I am broken, and that it will take time to fix me, but who is willing to make the effort because they see potential beneath my scars.

If I ever find that someone, I want them to know that they have changed my life by being there for me. If I ever find that someone, I hope they realize that they have given new life to a broken, long-forgotten soul that would otherwise fade into nonexistence. If I ever find that someone, I want them to know that the second chance they have given me is the greatest gift anyone could give me, and that I will never, ever be able to repay them. If I ever find that someone, I want them to know that they are, and will always be, my hero.