January 10, 2017


My only friend that will be by my side forever and never leave me. Sometimes my depression tricks me into thinking I’m happy just to make the downfall that much harder. I think about death almost daily and it doesn’t scare me. I sometimes wonder if my carefree attitude towards things in life is because I’m ballsy or because I don’t value my life. The amount of times I should’ve died/been raped going for walks in the dead of night by myself or meeting with complete strangers is incredible, but somehow I’m still here. And I say to my friends that I will be better, that I will stop taking walks alone at night and I will stop meeting with strangers but I know that’s not true. Because I don’t care if I live or die. It doesn’t matter to me anymore because of a little voice in my head that is always telling me how worthless I am. And nothing makes me truly happy. The amount of times I have thought and dreamed of putting an end to it all and yet there is something that keeps me holding on. These things change at different times of my life and right now my only reason for living is to be able to meet my nephew in the spring. I’m hanging on by such a thin string and it could snap at any moment. I truly don’t think I would have the strength to be here if it weren’t for my sister’s pregnancy. I don’t understand the expression “you have to love yourself before anyone else can love you”. I can not imagine a world in which I would be completely okay with myself. I love people to complete them and for them to complete me. I don’t feel like a whole person when I am alone and all that I have is my depression looming over me. I am jealous and I find it hard to be happy for others when I am not happy. It’s a truly disgusting quality but it is one that I don’t think I can ever change. Depression is such a hard thing to explain to people because it just sounds like an excuse and sometimes I believe it is too. But the way my depression has affected my life is sickening. I have cried for countless hours for no reason just because I have this crippling feeling that nothing is going to be alright. I panic sometimes knowing that if I don’t find someone I will never be truly happy. But then I remember nobody wants a girl with a lot of baggage.

Pills… I have to take 3 pills a night to feel somewhat normal and somehow I still feel as depressed as ever. Is the medication not working? Or am I just crazy? The doctors and my parents say that the person that I am on the pills is the person I really am. But do I like the thought of that? No. Do I find comfort in knowing that the person I am is a psychotic manic depressed girl? No. I want to die so badly but I can’t do that to my parents and that makes me mad. I am sick of constantly feeling like I can’t carry on through the day but I still feel remorse thinking of how my parents would feel. My mother told me once that she would kill herself if I killed myself. I could never imagine being the reason for my mother taking her own life and therefore I stay here and push through this day by day.

In the end all I have is me and my depression. What a fucked up thing to think about.

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