The thing is, people who don't have severe depression don't seem to really /get it/. It's not laziness. It's not a simple lack of motivation. It's not rebellion, it's not 'just a bad day,' it's not that I strive to be as dirty and sluggish and miserable as possible.
I want to do all the things you and everyone else does. I want to be ordinary and clean and energized. But you don't get it, you don't get why I don't just /do it/, why I don't just fucking make it happen.
You don't get why I don't shower every week.
You don't get why I will go a fucking month without properly brushing my hair until I'm genuinely worried it'll be knotted and horrible forever unless I untangle it every now and then.
You don't get why I don't like sleeping at night, why I feel like it's such a fucking /waste/ of the only fucking time I have to myself and only myself with no one around to tell me I'm ugly or fat or a failure or need to do this or that.
You don't get why I don't bother brushing my teeth every day.
You don't get why my room is an absolute pigsty and completely littered with trash and clothes everywhere.
You don't get why I don't bother doing laundry frequently, why I'd rather just yank on whatever doesn't smell like shit and spritz myself with body spray and decide that's enough effort towards getting ready for the day.
You don't get why I don't come out of my room until 3 in the afternoon.
You don't get why I could stay holed up in my room for absolutely forever if I didn't require food or water.
You don't get why I think I'm fat and ugly yet won't do a damn thing about it because I'm too fucking tired from just /breathing/ and holding my fucking head up that I don't have the fucking energy or motivation for regular exercise.
You don't get why I seem to not give a shit about anything yet will have an anxiety attack over the mere thought of someone disliking me or thinking bad things about me.
You don't get why I complain and whine about being single and having hardly any friends when I won't make an effort to put myself out there or even look presentable or appealing.
You don't get why I walk around smelling like I just crawled out of a dumpster and still won't bathe myself regularly.
You don't get why I wake up at the crack of dawn but don't force myself out of bed until the last second when I absolutely have to.
Because you /really/ don't get what it's like to fucking wake up and expend almost all of my energy and willpower to just make the mere decision to fucking try to live for one more day.
You don't fucking understand why it's so hard for me to breathe and function when I don't even fucking /want/ to.
You don't understand why I'm so /fucking/ worn-out from just /living/ that I can't fucking bring myself to shower or brush my hair or put on clean clothes or do your chores or talk to people or try to motherfucking look /pretty/ for you just because you'll finally accept me if I stop being so god damned depressed.
Well, I'm fucking sorry to all the ignorant fuckers out there that can't open their fucking eyes and see that while I'm lying in bed, rotting away in my own sea of self-pity and lethargy, I'm not 'being lazy'; I'm fucking suffering. I'm fucking surviving. And you make me want to stop doing both. You make me want to stop trying at all because you're so hung up on what's socially acceptable that you don't even see the effort I do put in to just getting the fuck out of bed each day.
This is me. Horrible, smelly, messy-haired, tired, dirty, depressed me. And I'm sorry that I can't be better for you.
