Confession: I am probably going to have to do something incredibly extreme to get my mother to believe me.
And I wish I wouldn't have to.
But Its hard not to when your mother is telling you that you're not depressed.
You're just not trying hard enough.
Its hard to stomach that even when I say the word depressed that they still think I am doing this for attention.
Even when you tell them that you've been avoiding the word for years because hey, everyone feels a little sad - that they think I'm doing this as an excuse for the way I've been doing in school.
Well, maybe its the reason I've been doing so poorly,
But I assure you that me doing poorly in school is not the reason that I've read the articles and taken the symptom survey and searched for a psychiatrist in this country.
I have not self diagnosed. I am simply saying, maybe I have it. Its the same as saying hey maybe I have a cold.
But my parents don't get that. They see this girl who is failing at school and trying to find the easy way out.
I do not want to tell them, that the easy way out has been appealing to me for 3 years. That the easy way out has been sitting in that medical cabinet just urging me to come and take them and take a nap.
I have been trying. I have been trying my damnest to stay alive. And it's so fucking annoying to think, I may have to attempt suicide to get my mother -the person who gave me birth- to believe me.
Do you know how hard it was to put what I am feeling into words?
That loneliness, the emptiness, the sadness, the non-will to survive.
Does she know how hard is was to finally admit to myself that I need help?
Does she know, that it took me staring at the set of knives in our kitchen, the razor blades in our bathroom, the medicine in our cabinet, to realize that I cannot live with my mind constantly shoving reasons to die down my throat?
Of course she doesn't. Because I'm just not trying hard enough.
Try harder, Cheyenne.
Maybe it'll take another 5 years for you to tell them once again how you feel.
Or maybe you'll be dead.
But try harder.
YOU ARE READING
Little Infinities
Non-Fiction"No one told me, That love was something to be afraid of. Now look at me; Afraid to get my heart broken After one encounter With the angel-disguised sin. " c.w A collection of poems, dreams, thoughts and short stories.
