Depression is an ugly thing, I don’t know if anyone gets it like this, of if this is even depression and not just me being pathetic… but I always feel that nobody gives a shit about me. Even my childhood friends, my highschool friends, my cousins, my brothers, my parents. I always feel everyone around me is secretly fed up with me. That they secretly feel relieved when I leave. That they talk about me behind my back and about how sick they are of me. That they don’t miss me when I’m gone.
I’ve felt this way since I was 12. I would lock myself up in my room and bury myself in books full of magic and wonder, trying in my own childish way to escape from those feelings, to escape reality, but when I was forced to leave that safe place it was like I was trying to walk through this thick jell-o like atmosphere, i was covered in this endless anxiety. in this endless fear that no one could really, truly love me. it doesn’t matter how often people tell me that they do, I can’t believe them. It doesnt matter how often people tell me that I’m fun, and kind, and that they miss me when I’m gone. It doesn’t matter how hard they hug me when they see me again, or how much fun we have, or how much we laugh. I feel that when I leave they’re much better of.
I feel so terribly alone every second of every day, and I want to call someone, just to hear their voices, just to reaffirm that they care… but that anxiety tells me that I’ll just bother them, and when I force myself to call them anyways they are busy. They can’t talk long, they don’t ask me about my day, they don’t ask why I called, they only answer my questions and say goodbye… and they never call me. They won’t contact me, they won’t think of me, they won’t care about me unless I remind them that I exist. That I’m a living being that still considers them a part of my world. that I even have a world to begin with.
I understand that they’re busy with their own lives and that they might not have time to spare to wonder about mine, but that doesn’t change the fact that I interpret their busyness as hatred, as annoyance, as anger or disgust or all of these things smushed together.
I’m scared, every second of every day. I’m scared to look at my phone because I know I’ll have no missed calls, or piled up text messages. I don’t even bother checking my mail because I know there are no letters for me, no packages from any of my “Friends” from around the world. Nothing… But I do call, I do text, I do send letters and packages.
My friends have written birthday letters to each other, but I’ve never received one. Whenever I go back home I have to call, text and message all of my friends through all the mediums of communication I know to get them to come and see me, or to remind them that I’m back for a short period of time… but they don’t seem to care. I tell them to drop by unannounced, that I won’t mind… but they don’t. I call to see if they’re free, if I can go see them. They say they can’t, but they’ll call me as soon as they’re free… but they don’t. And I just… I don’t know how to cope with that. I should just get over them and realize that those are not real friends… but then that means I don’t have any friends… and I can’t risk thinking like that, because I just got out of a very dark place and I don’t want to be there anymore. I don’t want to hurt myself anymore. I don’t want to let anyone down again.
That’s what depression feels like to me. That’s what I’ve been dealing with on and off for 8 years and I can’t control it. I can’t just switch it off. I can’t just tell myself it’s all in my head and make it disappear, it doesn’t work like that!