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Author's note:
I've fought my own battle with mental illness for a long time, so I realize that there's the possibility of this being triggering at parts. I've done my best not to make it that way, but triggers are different for everyone, so I apologize ahead of time for any discomfort. Please do not read if you feel uncomfortable with it!
I'm really interested in getting feedback so please don't be afraid to comment if I should continue!
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Jessi doesn't remember exactly when the depression set in. She thinks it was around the time she started high school, but that was nearly seven years ago, and she doesn't like to admit it's been that long. There have been short periods of satisfaction, wherein she feels like herself again, has things to look forward to and get excited about, doesn't fantasize about crashing her car into a brick wall or driving it off a cliff on a daily basis, but mostly her life has passed in a blur of sluggishness and self-loathing and suicidal urges.
She goes to school and stares at the contrast of the words against the background of educational power points, she listens to teachers drone on about things that hold little relevance to real life, her pen glides across paper and records the notes, but she doesn't really absorb much of anything anymore. Once upon a time, her shelving job at the library made her feel slightly better about things. She liked to use reading as an escape from the real world, so being surrounded by books all day was ideal, but the more the sickness set in, the less she was able to enjoy it. She goes out with her friends sometimes, in an attempt to distract herself from the dreary thoughts making home in her head, but her eyes are distant and her attempts at conversation are awkward and half-hearted when it's so hard to truly care about anything.
Possibly the worst part of it is she knows she doesn't have a real reason to be this way, so on top of it all, she hates herself for being such an ungrateful little shit. Her therapist tells her otherwise, says there's no "real reason" for depression, that it's common for people in all walks of life, it's just a chemical imbalance in her brain she has no control over, blah blah blah. All she sees is that she's 21 years old with a steady income, two years of Uni under her belt, and a love for football once in a week that fills her life. So why is that not enough for her? Why does she constantly feel like something's lacking, like there's no point of even getting out of bed in the mornings? This should be the prime of her life, and she's tortured daily by the knowledge that she's letting it waste away.
She really does live comfortably, so to anyone on the outside it probably seems like her life is on track. Her problem is that she has no idea where that track is headed, what she wants to do with her future or where she pictures herself ten, five, even two years from now, and she still isn't entirely sure she wants to be around to find out.
She wakes every day with the heavy weight of dread pinning her to the mattress, coaxing her into ditching all her responsibilities and just going back to sleep. Most of the time, it doesn't take much convincing. The days that she gives into it are beginning to outweigh the days she doesn't, and because of it she's stopped attending school and is hanging on her last thread at work. Maybe she should be more concerned, considering Uni is almost a requirement to make anything of your life nowadays, or that her job is her only source of income so she needs it to keep surviving; and maybe the worrying over these facts should be enough to make her haul her arse out of bed every morning, but then maybe the world shouldn't be so hard and stressful and maybe her room shouldn't be so safe and familiar and inviting.
On the days that she is able to will herself to actively participate in life, she does it by taking comfort in the idea that at any moment, she can choose to make it her last. If things get to be too much, I can always kill myself she keeps the reminder tucked away in the back of her mind and clings to it to get her through every grueling moment of longing and emptiness and fear. Longing for something more, something exciting, something to shake her up and make her feel alive again, the great big reason to keep on living. Emptiness because she doesn't have it yet, and each day she can feel herself getting more and more tired of waiting for it to come along. Fear because what if it never does?
She sees the flatness every day in the people around her. Retail workers stuck at the same miserable job until retirement, people trapped in loveless marriages, homeless men taking shelter in dark alleys, burnouts with nothing left but apathy behind their empty eyes. She fears becoming one of them, yet knows she already is. It's just a matter of time before she decides enough is enough, but something still keeps her fighting every day and most of the time she really wishes it didn't. She wishes she could smother that basic human instinct for survival and just have the courage to let go of consciousness for good. Weekly therapy combined with daily medication is barely working to keep her interested in this world and she's not sure how much longer she can stand it.
Until one day, she finds something that works a whole lot better.
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Let Me Fix You (Neymar Fanfiction)
FanfictionJessi has been dealing with depression for as long as she can remember. She doesn't expect green eyes and toothy grins to save her, but they're doing a hell of a lot more to help than regular therapy and prescribed pills ever have.
