The Truth

Sometimes I wonder how the world would be if I had committed suicide all those years ago. Would it be worse, or better? Maybe I did die in a parallell universe and they actually know. But here, or anywhere, I will never know. Every single person has a big affect on others. Since I know the people around me I have an impact on them, and because of that they are who they are which then affect others who affect others and so on. If I had died 7 years ago I would not have met most of the people I know. That means that the world wouldn’t be the same. But the thing is even though I lived, I still feel dead inside. Since people sometimes ‘don not see me’ or forget I’m there I often wonder if I’m in fact am a ghost, a ghost with a beating heart. Can I live again? Or is there no rescuing my jet black heart?

Last week I dared say the words which has been on my mind for years but I have never said out loud. “I am afraid of losing my depression.” You see, I fell into my depression when I was 11 and I have very few memories of the time before it begun. The darkness within me is all I know and if I would loose that what would I be? My darkness drags me down but also builds me up. I am my darkness. Although every now and then it consumes me or drifts away. What would life be without this? Is there even a life without this? That is what I am afraid of, that if I loose my depression I will truly die, because there will be nothing left of me.

The End Of Summer

Summer is ending which means back to school. Never in the many years I have been going to school have I found it a place I want to be. I simply don’t fit in, never have. My social circle have always been small, teachers have either looked down on me or thought too much of me, I have usually liked the subjects but not the way the teachers have been teaching them, and I have always felt lonely. I feel into my depression when I was in elementary school, I were bullied all the three years I went to middle school and in high school I finally hit raw bottom. But it is not until now that I have been starting to get help for it. Last week was the first time I got to see a psychiatrist. She makes me feel slightly uncomfortable and is pushing me to tell my parent even though I have told her that I do not want to. So far all she wants me to do as a treatment is to ‘become more social’ which is not so easy since I am also quite an introvert. But that becoming social should be a whole treatment does not make sense to me. Life sucks, a lot, but it is those little things that makes me happy that keeps me choosing life over death. Although some days I am questioning my choice.