And there he goes again. Making me go down a downward slope where I'll never be heard from again. He thinks he owns me, then again he does. He laughs at my pain. When I think I'm out of his grip he holdsme tighter as if to never let me go. Oh, how much I hate him. He makes everybody leave. He pushes them away. He makes everybody who once had my back turn around and stab me in it. "She's always so sad." "Ugh, she's so annoying." "She won't stop being sad." Everybody around me thinks I should just get over him. But the thing is I can't. He's the kind of person that locks you in a room and never lets you fucking go. No matter how hard you scream out for help, you're trapped, and there's nobody around. He makes you stay in that dark dungeon you call your mind with your demons until they finally convince you to do the "right" thing that proves to be wrong to everyone around you. "Just get over it," everyone says. "You let it take over every aspect of your life, just think about something else and try to have fun." There's such a huge difference between letting him and not having a choice. Put yourself in my goddamn shoes. Now, I know everybody has bad times and goes through rough times. So does he. He knows that. The thing is I know that so well that I put everyone else before me. Everybody. Until he no longer lets me breathe. Imagine not having true happiness in all the years of your life. Not one week having gone by that you've been happy. See, Happiness and Depression don't get along. At all. She wants to visit me sometimes. Happiness knocks on my door and can barely get one foot in the door before Depression mercilessly shoves her out and locks the door.
Why don't they understand? Why does nobody understand? It's a burden on them, I know. But imagine how big of a burden it is on me. Damn it, can somebody for once just listen? And I don't mean listen to my words. I mean listen to what I can't even say. They know and they simply don't care. "You don't annoy us." That's what they say when my back isn't turned. God, do I feel alone. I don't blame them, though. That's not what I'm saying at all. Shit, I blame myself. If I could just "get over it," don't you think that's the first thing I would have done? I'm not asking them to be patient anymore. No, I don't need them to be. I just need them to either be in or be out. I can't have this constant juggle in my mind of whether I can carry Depression on my shoulders like a toddler or whether I need to put him in my back pack and carry him around like a pile of heavy rocks. I just need to know. I'm not asking anybody to stay anymore. And even if they do, I won't be mad if they ask me to fake a smile. I really won't. I just need to know so that I can try to breathe. When a best friend yells at you for having this unwanted guest that I've had for life, that's when you know you're alone. When the person that said would stick by you the most is the one that says "We can't be friends anymore, it's too hard to be around all this sadness," that's when he really gets to you. That's when he makes you do horrible things to yourself and then makes you regret them. I just want somebody to squeeze me tighter than he does. Somebody who hugs me so tight that Depression is forced to loosen his grip. Somebody who doesn't make me feel annoying every time my friend Bipolar and his sister Anxiety come to visit alongside Depression. Somebody. Anybody. I just want to be heard when it's hard to speak. I want to be better, I really do. But when I've tried for more than seventeen years, it gets a little discouraging. When I can't keep someone in my life for more than a few years, it's harder. But if I can't actually get better right now, and I can't fake it, and I can't show it, what do I do? What does everybody expect me to do? I don't know what I expect myself to do... End it all? Maybe soon. Probably in a while. But I have to get used to the idea of him winning. Headlines would say "She lost herself and the prize went to Depression." All I need to do if he doesn't get out is just get used to that headline. That's all. Then it would be over. Everybody would be free. Then, my only advice to everybody else would be to try their hardest not to end up like me... Up against a wall with Depression holding a gun at their head.
