Lately I’ve been depressed. It’s the kind of depression where all of your days blend into one. I struggle to fall asleep and when I do, I sleep the entire day. No motivation to get up and do things. Sometimes I want to end my life and my constant suffering. There are days when I get tunnel vision, where all I see is the road on my way to work. The hallway I walk down everyday. Sometimes I blink and it’s the end of the day and I wonder where the last few hours went. My diet has consisted of Red Bull and chips and I hardly finish my food when I try to have an actual meal. I’ve been so depressed for weeks.
Now you may be wondering: why doesn’t she get help? Reaching out for help has always been difficult for me. Sometimes, the only person who can truly save you is yourself. I’ve been through depression several times in my life, to the point where sometimes the sadness is comforting. I’ve familiarized myself with the feeling so much that when I’m happy, truly happy, I feel uncomfortable. Which then makes me wonder if I truly do need help. If the sadness consoles me, what’s the problem? I know it’s not healthy. But I wouldn’t be myself if I wasn’t sad. So, really, I’m doing just fine.
I wake up every morning, put on my makeup and do my hair. I play my favorite songs on my way to work. I text my friends, talk to the people around me. I laugh with intention, I smile willingly. And when people ask me how I am, I respond the same way every time. “I’m fantastic as always!”
If My Heart Could Speak 