I’m running from it. Suddenly it tackles me to the ground, laying on top of me and suffocating me to a point where I am almost completely out of breath. I’m forced to carry its weight on my chest. As I lay with it on top of me, it whispers things into my ear that sit in the back of my mind daily. “You will always be lonely,” “there’s no point in living a life that you will never be happy in,” “you are unbearable, selfish and a horrible excuse of a person,” “no matter what you do, I will always be right behind you, ready to take you down.”
The second it catches up to me, depression begins to control my life, my words, my tone, my actions and how I react to things. I let it sit on my chest, telling me everything that I already think of myself when I am alone with my thoughts. Why do I let this happen to me? Why did I attempt a suicide just a year ago? How did this creep on me so fast? After living with depression for over a year, I still do not have an answer to any of these questions.
I’ll fall into a deep sadness that leaves me drowning in my own tears. Sometimes those tears are a metaphor, other times they’re real. Crying all the emotions I feel can help, I’ll let the deepest thoughts slide down my cheeks and sink into my lips, and the cycle repeats itself a few days later.
It takes away my motivations for the things I love. Because of this, I end up laying in my bed alone, isolating myself from my family who tries their best to help. Knowing that they’re standing on the other side of the door gives me guilt, desperately wanting to be who they want me to be. The girl who makes jokes, who feels joy at any given moment, gives love and affection every single time she saw them.
I haven’t thought about committing suicide for over a year now. There are times, though, where I wish I could disappear to save the people I love from the person I could turn into. It’s ridiculous, but sometimes I think of myself becoming someone who my parents look down upon. They are the people I look up to the most and I don’t want to disappoint them.
The times I want to be alone are the times that I can’t be alone. Although I haven’t thought about taking my own life, I’m afraid if I spend too much time with myself, I will fall into the arms of those thoughts. Before I begin to have those thoughts, I think of my brother and everything he’s lost. To leave him standing without me by his side would be the most selfish thing I could ever do. He’s my superhero, the moon I look up at in the sky, the sun that glows on my skin when I’m feeling my lowest. He doesn’t have to do a thing and he makes me the luckiest older sister in the world. He is the reason why I keep fighting depression.
Photo: 38 Degrees