Depression is an art. It's the art of many masks. The art of hiding what you really feel. The art of silent lies...
Beep.. beep... beep.... I groan as I turn off that abnoctions alarm. 'Maybe I should have time for a little more sleep... Nope get up Al get up before your mum wakes you up.' I drag myself off the bed and walked into the bathroom. I stare at myself in the mirror to check for any remnance from yesterday's break down. Nope. 'Maybe today will be a good day.' I sit in front of my closet and think of what to wear. 'Why do I try so hard? Why can't I just be fashionable like everyone else? Well it's not like anyone would care about what I wear anyway.' I get dressed and walk down the stairs.
I hear them before I see them. "Where is your sister? Why does it take her so long to get down here? Let's not wake her up and see what time she gets up." I walk into the kitchen pretending I didn't hear her, that it didn't bother me one bit. "What were you doing up there? Everyone is finishing already." "Nothing." "See How rude your daughter is? That's why sometimes I dont want to talk to her." "Not that I want you to anyway..." I mumble to myself. "What was that?" "Nothing" My mum's yelling becomes back ground music as I drown myself in my own thoughts trying not to explode. You might think I'm being over dramatic but it really hits you when this is your everyday. Years and years of this torment and bottled up emotions making you into a huge mess. The yelling stops and mum walks out of the kitchen. Soon everyone leaves. Alone in the kitchen I stare at the empty table. As usual no one bothered to make me breakfast. Having no appetite I decide to skip breakfast.
Disclaimer:
I do not speak for everyone who has depression. This story is just my views and thoughts. So if you don't like it you can always stop reading.
~Al
