My thoughts

08/14/17

Dear depression,

You need to leave me alone already. Everyday you're screaming at me and telling me how terrible I am. You make me replay every mistake I've ever made in my head. You humiliate me on a daily basis. You've made it impossible for me to be happy or have any connections with friends. I am so sick of you controlling me. The sooner you leave, the better off I will be. Don't come back either. I never want you to be apart of my life again. I hate you and I hate myself for ever letting you in my head.

Sincerely, me.

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Self harm and self hate are two different things. Yet, in a way they are the same aren't they? One destroys you from the inside out and the other destroys you from the outside in.

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"What is the scariest part?" They asked.

I answered, the scariest part is not the feeling of loneliness or the darkness that fills you, despite the looming pain of emptiness.

The scariest part is the realization that I have lost myself  completely, sinking in as I lay awake at 4am because I lost the ability to sleep, and I can't even cry because I have no tears left to spill. For I have run out.

What is happening to me?

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People need to stop assuming things.

I am bent, but not broken.
I am scarred, but not disfigured.
I am sad, but not hopeless.
I am tired, but not lifeless.
I am afraid, but not powerless.
I am angry, but not bitter.
I am depressed, but not giving up.

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So what's the point? I forgot what it's like to smile and mean it for more than 1 hour. I forgot what it's like to be a lovely person. If that ever happened. I forgot how it feels to live and like it. Now I just exist, or nearly so.

So tell me, what's the point of living a life faking a smile every fucking hour of your day. Pretending and trying so hard to be so fucking nice and inspiring just for people to like you. Pretending to live a life you want to live. Plus, making yourself believe that you are really loving to live that way.

What's the damn point?

It doesn't mean that I'm fucking proud of this either. Make me understand as I try to do the same.

I don't fucking know anymore. Ignore what I just said.

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Depression is such a cruel punishment. There are no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests to send people scurrying in concern, just the slow erosion of self, as insidious as cancer. It is essentially a solitary experience, a room in hell with only your name on the door.

And you have no way to escape it.

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Physically I'm here, but mentally I'm far far away...

Do you know how hard I try to become what others want me to be? Take me how I am, this is all that I got.

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What have I become?