I’m starting to feel bad for the people who hang out with me. They can’t be having any fun. And this is where isolation comes in. Within a full on war inside of your mind, depression will make sure you know who’s who when your around anybody. With this kind of low self worth, no one would probably even give me a penny if I were homeless, I’m so repulsive. Or they’d probably want change back.
The goal is always the same. Get happy. Go for the gold. This is all getting a little too old for me. It’s like everything around me screams depression, and I’m in a library constantly getting “shhshed,” because I’m not using my 6 inch voice. I don’t want this to be my legacy. That I suffer from depression or anything for that matter, or even that I suffer. But a sufferer’s will must be watched out for. Because when you endure such pain as a sufferer does, automatic strength comes with it, plus a big dose of reality. I’ve really gotten to see different sides of people that I wouldn’t have seen had I not gone through this. The thing is though, now that I am coming out of it, I can’t say I learned a ton, except the flaws everywhere I’d go. Because what happened in this dark place was reality, and gravity reminding you that nothing happens magically. I’ll tell the world of my suffering and they show me why it’s going to get worse. All of my fears of the world came true. Depression will make the strongest of the strong barrel down to their knees, begging for forgiveness from torments that are blinding. And when they need help, they get people who are either out to take advantage, or who judge the wrong way and some that are not shy to show it. Empathy is at a loss during a time when you just want someone to get it, just let me be and make it through, and still being on the other side calling themselves a friend.