The Band Bus

It's been 2 years now since I first got sick but it seems the wounds are still there, open and raw and fresh. Could it be that my depression never really left? I try and block the darkest moments of my life out but they always seem to resurface with the same pain they had when I first received them. It's been said that time heals all wounds, but whoever said that clearly had no knowledge on the subject. Some hurts just go too deep. In sixth grade, I lost more then just a bone and some hair. I lost the old me. The Me that was happy, carefree, and full of life. Occationally, I receive glimpses of the happy past but they are now foreign to me. How do you pick up the threads of an old life? How do you go on when, in your heart, you know there is no going back? I look at my friends, at my peers, but the warmth and connection I had with them has vanished, and now a wall divides us. They can't share my pain because they have never felt it. Two broken rocks can lean on eachother and make eachother whole, but a single rock will just keep falling. Lately, much of the pain I've felt is felt by my friends, and by talking to them it gets taken away. But who do I talk to for this? I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I'm embarassed that I'm separated like this. So, the hardest part's over; I've finally admitted it. Now what?