Depression

Some two years ago, I suffered through depression. The feeling was a spiraling madness of tears and frowns and hatred. It felt like I was wrapped up in the claws of darkness, no amount of light able to seep in-between its fingers. I felt blind: blinded by both the blackness of the world around me and by my own tears, which flooded my face and left a permanent river that marked my depression. I felt empty: I saw the glass as empty even though it was clearly filled to the brim with orange juice, and at times I couldn't feel my own heartbeat. I felt numb: numbed by the very claws that painfully clutched me, not wanting to let go, pulling me even deeper into the spiraling madness.

I cried through every second during this epoch of sadness. Only miserable thoughts floated in my mind, reminding me of the suffering that is my life. I writhed at the headaches and the stomachaches and the heartaches that resulted from this. Only feeling I felt was pain, surging through my body, through my veins. I couldn't think, I couldn't speak...I couldn't...

I inflicted pain on my own self in an attempt to cancel out the other pain. I would wash away the red that was on my knife, secretly, discreetly, and at one point, I felt satisfied with myself. But the reflection of my blood-stained knife startled me. Who is this? I asked myself. This strange little girl with the crooked frown and the dry eyes. Who is this? Why is she hurting herself? Why can't she...smile?

I washed the knife, put it away--away from my hands, from my memories--and went to bed. I woke up the morning after and, for once in the longest while, looked at my reflection and genuinely, sincerely smiled. The claws lessened their hold and I madly reached for the little light that seeped through. It whisked me away to the life I was knew, to the life of mirth and TLC and family. I was finally home.

Some two years ago, I made a promise to myself--to never succumb to depression again. It hurt me, both physically and mentally, and it hurt the people around me. Yet as I sit here, with rivers flowing once again and the headaches, stomachaches, and heartaches returning, I feel like I betrayed myself. The claws have returned, and it has no mercy, and I am weak... I do not want to go through this melancholy madness again...

But it is alright. I am wearing a mask. No one will ever see the tears again--only a perpetual smile, convincing and fake.

Author's Note

Coming from the very depths of my heart. I do have depression, and I want so badly to stop all this... Today, I will be talking to my counselor in hopes that I will be helped and life will be more tolerable. Wish me luck.

Reviews

[Tai Ryens]

It was like I can feel everything you explained in this, I could almost perfectly picture the third paragraph in my mental mind. Times when we don't want to get out of bed are sometimes the worst, we can mask it, shove it deep into a bottle then close it, only to have it blow up later, or we can show it, hurting both ourselves and others simultaneously.
Great story... You portray it all so perfectly...