One Big Mess

The things I don't talk about

6/10/19

(Trigger warning: depression, self  harm, and suicide.) 

I've have never actually talked about this to anyone so I'm sorry if my words come out wrong. 

I'm really not trying to make this poetic, this is an incredibly hard topic for me and I ended up crying several times writing this.

I'm 16, almost 17.

I've been fighting a battle with depression since I was 12 (technically), it's actually a miracle I'm still here.

My depression and I get along alright... most of the time.

And it's at times like this that I realize that my depression is definitely winning.

I have anxiety too, not that anyone probably cares.

My family doesn't actually know I have depression, which is strange, right? 

They only know the anxiety, the overwhelming and crippling fear and overthinking that I launch into on a daily.

I found out I had depression and anxiety when I went to therapy at the age of 13 because I didn't understand what was going on with me, 

so I brought all the anger and self hatred I felt about myself out and turned it physical.

I hurt myself in ways no 13 year old should hurt themselves. 

It was my only means of escape from my constantly tormenting mind. 

It became my addition, the only way I could make sure I still felt something.

And it was exhilarating and I couldn't stop.

I almost cut my life short at the age of 14.

I had gotten so upset with myself that I got reckless.

I went all little deeper than usual and it almost cost me.

I hadn't ment to and I didn't tell anyone, not even my therapist. 

No one knew, and still no one knows about that.

At 15 I somehow made so much "progress" that I managed to trick myself and everyone else into believing I was better.

I had finally gotten to the point where I was no longer anyone's problem.

My depression didn't go away though..... it simply morphed itself into self deprecating jokes.

Just subtle hints that I hated myself but they were harmless jokes, right?

I'm 16, almost 17.

My depression and anxiety have taken almost complete control over me and I don't want to fight  them anymore. 

I can put up the wall that shows I'm happy and okay.

But at 2:19 AM, when everyone else is sleeping, the thoughts are front and center, keeping me awake, making me go crazy.

And it's a miracle I'm still here. 

I'm only here because I don't want to make people upset. 

I don't want to leave them behind, even though they couldn't care less about me.

I don't know if my story is going to have a happy ending.

All I know is that it will have an ending...