My Story

trigger warnings: depression

make the voices stop 

my name shall be anonymous.

I hear a voice in my head. She has no name, for everytime I try to give her one she tells me it's wrong. My only escape is my art, but if I don't listen to music she'll talk to me.

She isn't mean, on the contrary she's very nice, always playfully teasing me any way a friend would. I can't make her speak to me, she comes when she wishes. She almost sounds like me. Almost.

When I was four I met my best friend, Lily. She wasn't real, but imaginary. We also had a friend named Hannah, and I played with those girls everyday. We even had fights like real friends. The voice almost sounds like Lily. Almost.

I think she's been there awhile, but when I was little I pretended she was someone telepathically speaking to me because that's the kind of things a 6-year-old dreams up. 

I'm almost 13 now and it's only gotten worse. I grew out of Lily and Hannah, only remembering them and saying hi on a rainy day. They'll always be apart of me, after all.

I tend to listen to the same songs over again when I find songs I like. I have a whole playlist with no two artists. I listen to that every chance I get.

Sometimes I get overwhelmed. The same verse from two or more songs repeats endlessly in my head, and She tries to calm me but I can't think of anything. It doesn't hurt, like a headache, but it does hurt in a way. 

I've tried to think of my favorite memory, the people I love, and even blue skies, but giving the effort to think of those things makes it worse.

They come and go without notice. I haven't told my family, I'm not sure if I ever will, but these attacks all started last year, when I was getting over a wave of depression that I had taken step by step by myself.

I've always been an over thinker, easily embarrassed to say how I'm feeling. I acted like nothing was wrong, I hid behind a smile.

I have no self confidence. I never have had any. I used to resent my mother only slightly for giving me such a unique name. I wanted the name Abigail. I wanted to be normal.

I love my name now, I've learned it means clear and bright. When I think of my name, I think of a beautiful sunny day, one filled with endless blue skies and just a few clouds here and there.

I hate how I look. I have small hands and feet, bracelets never fit. Anytime I actually think I look beautiful, that goes away within a small amount of time.

The only thing I like about myself is my glasses. I don't feel like myself until I wear them. Them and my friendship bracelets tied indefinitely onto my wrist. One for my sister and one for my best friend. 

I've never had a single suicidal thought, I don't do well with pain. 

I constantly get teased by my father about my weight and every other little insecurity I have. I'm underweight. He isn't abusive, but words do hurt. 

I haven't had a bad childhood, not at all. But I have had things happen to me that impact myself mentally.

The boy I'm in love with, I only see him once a year, for a week for Vaction Bible Study, and I couldn't see him this year because of Corona. I thought I had gotten over him but I still love him. I wish I had told him because I may never see him again. He was my friend.

I'm homeschooled but I go to a co-op. Because of the lack of safety precautions my parents pulled me from it this year and I miss my friends so much.

I hate math so much. I'm told I'm good at it, but it's so hard and and telling a child they're good at something they don't like makes it harder because they want to keep impressing you but they also want to take a step back and learn at their own pace.

The other day I looked in a mirror, realized I was so ugly that I went to cry alone in my room for half an hour. The only thing that keeps my connected to earth is drawing. I have such a passion for it, I can't even explain it. It's incredible how a ugly blank piece of paper can turn into something so beautiful. That what I want to do with myself. I want to make my white piece of paper pretty and noticeable. I don't want to be popular, I just want to be pretty.

I live in a good neighborhood with a good family and good wealth. I just don't understand why I get the voice. I don't know where she came from.

It isn't that I don't like her, she's very nice to me, but I feel like she's the part of me that keeps me from loving myself. Everyday is like taking a step in quicksand. You're not sure how much longer you can stay upright.

I want her to go away. I want to love myself, but I don't know how. 

I have no recent selfies, I deleted them all. 

I try to distract myself when I'm alone in my room but watching YouTube. It works.

All I want is to think my own thoughts, let myself think I'm pretty. 

All I can do it keep drawing, and hope she leaves me alone.

This is my story.