Depression is different for everyone but this is the story of mine.
Day 1 "We're moving"
Day 25 "What's wrong with you? Fucking suicidal freak"
Today "I doubt she even has depression her life is perfect, she's just an attention whore"
My depression is a bundle of being numb and feeling like I'm burning at the exact same time. It's loving the pain and blood but hating the fact that I cut.
It's me hating myself so much that I make myself vomit everything I've eaten but always wanting more food. It's my addictions. It's all the masks I put on.
My depression is what keeps me awake at night, with crystal clear images of my haunting suicide, images of my mother walking in the next morning dropping to her knees trying to wake her little girl up but knowing that I won't. Images of my funeral and seeing my family broken and sobbing, seeing my brother kneeling by my casket,petting my hair while asking why I didn't just talk to him, saying that I was the only person he had. Images of two years later as my mom walks by my room and staring longingly at the door praying for her little girl to walk out and tell her she loves her again while embracing her in a tight hug and giving her a kiss. Images that keep me here for them because I would never want them to experience what I am, and see the images I see.
