Insatiably You | l.s.

Chapter 14

With every passing day, I feel myself drawing closer to the precipice of no return. Minutes away, from succumbing to the comfort many find in the calm, darkness of depression. Mere seconds away from it, yet, I know I cannot use it as my refuge. 

I know I have to fight it. 

I have to fight the feeling even though it claws at my body like an itch which needs scratching. Even though it feels like an orphan begging for a home. Even though every fibre of my being just wants me to give up and let it overtake me, I know I cannot allow myself to feel this relief. 

To me, I always saw depression as something dark and menacing the human mind created when it wished to feed on itself. I saw it as something created solely in one's mind, and while yes, it was something so very real it was also something that could be warded off with proper care. 

I saw it as a test of a person's self-control, and a test of a person's strength, where only the brave enough ones would come out fighting. 

I saw it as something which could be overcome with the perfect amount of drugs no matter how quickly it appeared, as there would always be the drugs there to fight it for you — whether they took the form of a person or Celexa, there would always be something to ward it off.

However, while I saw it as these things, I never saw it as a silent creeper or as something where, when you would be close to falling asleep and getting peace, it would come strangling you. 

I never saw it as something stealthy like a snake or cunning as a vixen, but instead as something boisterous and large. Something easy to identify which in turn would make it easy to treat and ward off.

I always thought it to be something easily noticeable, something with red warning signs glaring at you, but just like most things in life if you never experience it, even just a glimpse of it, you genuinely have no idea what to expect, or what the reality really is. 

And that is exactly what was happening to me.

While I would not go as far as classifying myself as becoming depressed, I knew I would surely be at risk of becoming just that, if I continued the way I was going. 

Ever since Thursday night, my life has been a mess and upside down. I haven't left my bed since Friday morning and it's now already Tuesday. 

It has been four days since the incident happened and in no way am I getting much better — although I am desperately trying.

I know succumbing to my thoughts and the darkness is the easy path, I know it is what most people would have done if they were in my situation, I know, but I just can't bring myself to give up the fight. No matter how badly I want to, I know I can't.

I can't, when I know that if I do, I would be undoing all the progress I made with Dr Michaels. I can't when I know that if I do I would end up welcoming the one thing Dr Michaels fought so hard to prevent. And I especially can't when I know that if I do, I would not only end up disappointing her, but myself, my mother, Liam as well as Niall and most importantly, I would end up disappointing Louis too.

However, as I stay here in bed all day, only getting up to use the restroom and shower, (Louis forced me to do this as he said my cuts would become infected if I didn't) — while he also dutifully brings me all my meals  — I can still see the depression, fighting its way, to get into the cracks and wounds which were made on my skin.

I can hear its sweet crooning begging me to accept it. Begging me to give it some refuge in my mind while at the same time all I can see is the selfless things Louis has done, to help me fight that very voice.