-Thoughts of a Depressed Teen- (How Abnormal)

5am Rides to the Gas Station

I remember when I first started having these thoughts, I didn't make much of it, I never made much of it.

Growing into it was a trip. Well, more of a kidnapping considering I had no idea what my destination was, how I got there and me crying a lot during the way.
Due to much over time during that travel I grew to understand, somewhat, and figure out who my kidnappers were. Their names being Anxiety and Depression.

Depression mainly ruling over, telling Anxiety what to do almost like a leader.

During parts of the trip, I was calm, I myself was even confused of why I was so peaceful when I was going through such horrible circumstances.
But alas I would even fall asleep and when I apparently woke up I felt as if I had not slept at all, still tired, droopy eyes, and uncontrollable yawning.

Unease was definitely the best word.

Having a bag over my head prevented me from seeing eye to eye with these criminals.
Although I deny to everyone that I wanted to see their faces, I couldn't lie to myself, I didn't.

I was too afraid. I was afraid of who those voices belonged to and what I would do with the information of their appearance.

I wasn't afraid if they were monsters or if they had a vertical scar across their eyes and crooked broken smiles.
I was afraid they would look human, if they looked familiar or even if they looked like me.

I was afraid I would connect with them.

I was afraid I would see personality in them when I was the one being chained down like an animal.

I was afraid I was going to look like a monster.

So I didn't speak, I didn't ask, I didn't utter a single word.

But halfways through I opened my eyes. I realized I wasn't chained down,   I realized I was holding the steering wheel. I was pressing the pedal and I looked to my side to see a mass of broken twigs, shattered glass, hand shadows and two very miserable eyes.

That mass was the one chained down. That mass was the one staring at me. 

Even though anyone could say that thing didn't have a form, it did,
it was a boy drawing circles and zig zag lines on his arm with a pen wishing that were a blade.
It was a transgender girl crying her eyes out as she realized she would never be accepted by her parents.
It was an old woman rereading the letter about how her son had just died in war.
It was a man rubbing his arm as he had just broken it in an attempt for a suicidal accident.
It was a girl trying to fall asleep leaning on her window with tear stains down her face, her eyes fixated on the 7/11 in front of her.

"Can we leave already? I wanna go home."

I glanced at her, picked up the key that had somehow appeared inside my palm and unchained her.

"You can go home, it's time for all of you to go home."