Depression

Chapter 1: The Beginning

Usually to start off these stories you have a cheerful character saying 'Hi I'm Matthew Hayes!' or whatever the fuck their name is but me, my name doesn't matter, I'm not even myself anymore, all i am is the dankness in the tunnel but i never reach the light, everyone else reaches the light but not little old me. As you can probably tell I'm depressed, its the only interesting thing about me really, i have no one there for me Literally no one genuinely gives a fuck about me, no one messages me to see if im ok and no one messages me first. People only want me when they need something, in school I'm not apart of any group and if i wasn't there then no one would really care im not important and never will be because to be blunt i aint worth shit. Cue the fake ass 'I'm always here for you' 'don't say that, its not true!'.

You see i was never like this, i was normal and happy but then this disease infected me, i say 'disease' and 'infected' because it is a disease, a mental one but it also has physical effects, it effects everything i do, if i do anything at all because i never have any energy and i always feel weak blah blah blah, you all know the rest. Its an infection because it just came out of the blue then never went but with an infection, say tonsillitis you have antibiotics to help flush it out your body but depression is similar, with the right help it can go but, on the other hand can always come back. There is no cure. None at all. Just ways of helping for some that may be self harming in many different ways, whatever you could possibly think of has most likely been done to someone with the infection, but there are ways which don't harm us like sports or music or art but in every distraction is a form of depression, with music it will be deep music with relatable lyrics, artwork will be dark and so on. Theres no escaping it. No hiding, just running. Even though we have no energy or motivation we're good at running, but even sometimes, somedays we have no energy to metaphorically run so we just lay there and let the darkness engulf us, dragging us right down with it and we feel as though there is no escaping it, none whatsoever, the only way i can explain these days is that I'm trapped in a deep deep well, an old brick one and i try climbing up the chipped bricks to the light, out of the dark place and just as i think im getting good or better at climbing these decaying rocks i slip out of no where and fall down but each time i fall, i fall harder and deeper into it and i just stay there for a while, a few days maybe until i get back up and try again, these 'falls' are what the very, very oh so helpful doctors call 'relapses' where we need the most help but as usual they can't be fucked to give us it. Because apparently we're 'fine', see guys don't panic we're fine even when we cut our own fucking flesh or think about ending our very own existence we're all fine. Just fine. Absolutely fine.