Behind the Mask

Stress Release: Depression

Is it just me in this world that thinks of grey?

Sometimes, I do try to think, and I can get dark blues, browns, and maybe purple. But, these aren't the ones I am familiar with.

I can remember back to the days when, the moment I woke up, I was greeted by yellow, just like a star. It used to motivate me to wear a smile, jump around like a maniac, and scream words of positivism.

But those days are over. Now, I am fully aware of why they tell us not to stare at the sun. Because, after this time, we are blind to everything else. We see nothing, and finally realize that our place in society is limited to a person, and only one person. A billionaire may only receive one life and body, and so a homeless wanderer.

This is why I am depressed. Because the truth hurt more than what I had imagined.

Is it just me in this world that walks around aimlessly?

Especially on Monday mornings, I have no purpose. I find no purpose in living.

Because even my closest friends are off playing basketball and writing articles for Yearbook. And they are the only people I look for. Because whichever social group I join, I feel like these people must force a greeting to me. I feel like an outsider to the world, where everyone has their place in society.

So, I walk. I walk to the basketball courts, stare at Alan's face, and continue walking. I visit the English building, stare into the window of the Yearbook Class, and continue walking. I head toward the Guy's restroom, collect myself, fix my hair, and continue walking. I walk to my locker, the one I share with Alan, turn the knob, and stare inside. But inside, I see nothing but a math textbook and notebook, both of which belonging to Alan. So, I close it, and continue walking. I walk to the breakfast line, and think and remember if I had already ordered. I'm still hungry, but I know that something warm is getting cold inside my stomach. I continue walking to the PE Lockers, open mine, stare at a single Portfolio, and close it again, because I wasn't searching for anything in particular. I glance at the mirror on the way out, and continue walking to the Band Room. I glance inside, and see twenty-thirty students playing instruments, in their own little sections. The Woodwinds, playing light melodies. The Brass, playing tones that shake my body, but warm my heart. The Strings, fiddling with bows. The Percussion, tapping to whatever surface they can tap on. But I, unlike those in groups, only came to look at the time. Only 5 minutes until the bell rings, so I walk, accompanied this time, with by clarinet. I walk again, to the MPR, and set up seating. I pull up a chair and a stand, and just when I am about to open my instrument case, the bell rings. Always on time. Me, always early and alone. They, always on time, walking with a friend.

This is why I am depressed. Because no one is there when I need it. 

Is it just me in this world that likes to run miles in PE class?

While my classmates complain about how often we run, I notice that we haven't run miles in about a month now.

When I say this, they glare at me strangely, like I am insane or something. They don't realize that running might as well be keeping me alive. They don't see that I am always being chased by my own thoughts. They don't see that my soul is tied down, unable to truly say what I want to say. They don't think of running as anything more than a time, which is like a grade that divides social groups from each other. The Jocks in the Top 10. The Soccer/Football Stars onto 15. The Athletic Girls whom everyone seems to crush on, up onto 20. The Extroverted Nerds up onto 28. The Rubix Cube Club, up until 32. The Unathletic Girls, up to 40. The Extreme Introverts up to 45. I fall on the edge of the Football Stars, and into the Athletic Girls. And that is neither a compliment or statement. Because I someday want to join those up front, and still title myself a Extroverted Nerd, because I don't like it inbetween.

I once got a 7:15 on the mile once, and that was the most freeing moment of my life. I wanted to scream in joy, that I have placed 2 slots above my rank at the time. But, I stopped breathing when I heard that almost everyone else had placed higher PR's, and I had actually fallen one point. Within a second, all my joy was destroyed instantly.

But, I still run. Not because I want to show off. But because I run to run. Because I realize that I can never do better. So, I run to relieve stress. That's my reason. Because with every sprint on the track, I gain a few inches ahead of my thoughts.

This is why I am depressed. Because I can't break free from my thoughts.

Is it just me in this world that falls asleep at midnight, wakes at 6, but no one recognizes the deprivation in my eyes?

I haven't gotten over 8 hours of sleep for about a month now. And just yesterday, I set an all time low with 3 hours.

And it's not because I stay up all night watching videos or play games or using social media. It's a combination of procrastination and emptiness. Procrastination, as I don't find enough time or energy to write. Emptiness, as almost half of my homework hours are of staring blankly at the screen.

Every night, I charge up only halfway, but somehow survive a school day. When I get home, I lack the energy to continue. If I nap, I would waste hours at a time. If I stay up, I wouldn't think critically enough to complete English homework. And this cycle of sleep deprivation only kills me. I am never able to receive the rest I need.

But everywhere I go, even my closest friends can not tell the difference between a irritable day, or a lack of sleep. I wish I could scream out loud to everyone that I am dying on the inside. But, I can't. Because my face doesn't show dark enough bags under my eyes to be true. Because everyone else claims they face the same problems as I do. Because they can handle it, so can I. Because apparently they have been through the same thing. But no one takes me seriously for my emotional and mental depression.

That is why I am depressed. Because I am already used to the darkness.

Is it just me in this world that drowns myself purposely in music and writing?

Recently, I've fallen for Electronic Dance Music. I lack interest in Pop Music, because I don't feel like I can relate to it anymore. The Pop genre is directed toward love and regret, joy and sadness, written in a melody of a couple words. But that is why I lack interest in it. Because I can't fully escape. Because it doesn't relate to my inner emotions. I've fallen for EDM, not because of its vocals, but because of its silence. Because silence, after all, is the best form of communication. Sometimes, I feel as if computer-created music is better sounding than a human voice. Maybe since humans are also the creatures that shriek at me, judge my decisions, and use it against others.

This is why I am depressed. Because nothing seems to tune to the way I feel.

This is why I am depressed.

Not because I seek attention. It's because I lack attention.

Not because it's a phase. It's because depression lasts a lifetime.

Not because I don't think positively. It's because I don't have anything to good think about.

Not because of my slipping grades. It's because of the people around me that isolate me.

Not because I am not given everything I need. It's because I lack the people in my life, not the items.

Not because karma is repaying me. It's because I lack trust in anything anymore.

Not because I chose to believe so. It's because I didn't have a choice.