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Op-Ed: The right of the depressed to defend themselves

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The small red pool on the bathroom floor grew as the gash on my leg continued to bleed. My mother knocked on the door, and I didn't respond. She immediately panicked and called my father, who forced the door. Though I'd been self-harming for months, I'd never gone this far before. Soon after getting some staples in my leg at the ER, I was released -- but not back to my home. I went to a...