I am alone. I have people around me, but I am alone. Some of these people I use to trust and could talk to. I’ve come to realize that these people are judgmental, mean, and selfish much like any other person on the street. I was in need of help, and no one answered my calls, but I made it out alive.. Alone. I didn’t feel strong the first time I purposely used a blade to cut through my skin. That night was tonight. It’s hard to describe depression in one sentence or in any words at all. There are no words to describe depression because that’s what it is. Nothing. Nothing around you, nothing in you. You are nothing, but you aren’t really nothing. You’re a human. A human with a black hole, an ache in your chest, a mind filled with painful thoughts. You have emotions but wish you didn’t. Wish you didn’t feel angry, sad, or pained. I want people to be around me, to talk to me, to comfort me, sometimes pity me. But I push them away because I don’t want them around me, to talk to me, to comfort me, or sometimes pity me. Depression is a lifestyle no human should ever have to endure. The feeling of being hopeless, useless, dead. Sadly, many people do. I am one of those people. One of those thousands of people. In reality, I am not alone. Mentally, I am alone. I always have been alone. I always will be alone. I have people around me, but I am alone.