My Boyfriend, Depression

Depression, and I

Depression and I have been this way since the beginning. He was the first friend I had after losing all the ones I had left. He made me numb to the world, and kept me from feeling pain for a long time. If I cried, he would wipe my tears, sometimes from the inside, so that I couldn't cry, no matter how much it hurt. I was always the outcast to everyone but him. I didn't mind, because he told me things. He taught me how to watch everyone around me; I could almost read minds eventually. When I discovered how beautiful the written word could be, there would be times I'd forget depression was always with me. He'd sit beside me, watching while I did things that made me feel again. I'd read, play video games, and eventually I discovered the world of the internet and the endless possibilities of roleplay. Even then, though, there were times that I needed depression to save me. When things got scary, when I was being hurt physically, emotionally, sexually, depression held my hand, and told me not to feel anything about it; to expect it. "After all, my dear, you are nothing to them. But you are everything to me," he'd say softly, holding me close. I often felt as though he were draining energy from me, because in times like this, when I felt nothing, I didn't have the liveliness to do anything that made me happy anymore. For years, I let him be the only one to hold me. I pushed everyone away, and let him smother me. Every day, he'd get up in the morning with me, and hand me my clothes for the day; including the accessories everyone found so unique about me, my smile, my charm, my humor, and my wit. He handed them to me every day, saying, "Now, they mustn't know about us, love. To hide us best, you must wear these. You look awful, but that'll have to do, won't it?" And then we'd rush out the door, skipping merrily as if we were off to another tea party.

Then, one day I met Tyler. Depression didn't seem to like him at all, but he made me feel different. I didn't feel attracted to him as I did with other boys, but I didn't hate him like I did most people. Over time, we became good friends, and depression was pushed away. Before he left, he said, "You'll regret this, you know. You're going to miss me. You'll want me back." He hissed at me, after spending one last night with me... that was the last time I drank before high school. Yes. I drank when I was younger. Depression said it would numb me even more; I would feel much better. Sometimes he was right, sometimes he was wrong. Anyway, I had to move away from my newfound friend. And once again, I was alone, only halfway across the country, away from my home. Depression had come back, but he hadn't said a word to me. He just watched in the shadows as I tried to live a normal life like everyone else in this new place. I found someone who made me feel okay. The results of that aren't important. What's important is by the end of it, I admitted I needed depression. He came back, and only now, did he weigh so strongly in my life that my heart was always heavy with his presence. Instead of handing me accessories, as he once did when I left the house, it became a bodysuit; more like a mascot suit. It smelled awful, looked awful, and I was always struggling to stand when I wore it. The suit was heavy, and I felt like I was always doing intense exercise in it, though in reality, I was going through ordinary days. At the end of the day, when I took the suit off, Depression lulled me to sleep. Sometimes, I'd sleep for days, and I'd miss school because of it. I didn't want to wear the suit anymore. "I have a solution," Depression said, "come, into the bathroom. It'll be great. Bring your backpack." I did as I was told.

While in the bathroom, he pulled from my backpack a plastic mechanical pencil, using my hands as puppets to do so, "Here, sweetheart, break it." I used my teeth, and snapped it, creating sharp edges. "Good, good, now... dig it into your skin, and drag it. Trust me, drag it, my love, and your heart, your mind, your... internal pain will all fade. You'll feel much better, I promise." I did just as I was told. It hurt, and there was blood running down my arm... but my heart was no longer heavy, and my mind felt like the weight had been lifted. I dressed the wound with toilet paper and peroxide. "No one can see this, my love. If they do, they'll think you're crazy; they'll think you want to die. Neither of us want you to die. You just needed to feel better," he said, putting his hand on my shoulder, "but they'd never understand you, love. Only I do. Because only I love you." From that point on, I wore hair ties on my left wrist to hide the cuts. I started to get more and more, progressing to broken glass, or anything sharp I could find, save for knives and razors. Things went on like that for years. Every now and again, a boy would come in and romance me, and make me forget about Depression. But when they left, he'd come back, and smother me worse than before. I nearly died many times because he suggested terrible things to relieve the pain. He even suggested death itself as a solution.

I had broken occasionally, and cried... one day, in particular, life changed. A tall boy, with green-brown-golden eyes, brown-red hair, a slim and tall physique, sat next to me at my usual table, with our friends. He held me, and talked to me. Prior to that, my experience with him was minimal, but that day, I felt more than the usual attraction I'd had before. From that day, he was my source of happiness. I felt happy. Depression had gone away. This boy, Noah, was his name, he and I had gone through many experiences that in a way, were linked. I held him when cried, and likewise, from that point on. Things went well, for a year, at least, despite problems with his parents.

It was finally my senior year, and I'd been having a lot of pain going on in my reproductive area, but life continued as normal. This pain progressed to the point where I'd be falling to the floor, curled in pain... Noah demanded I was taken to a doctor. And that... that was when everything fell apart.