I am utterly exhausted.
It turns out that masking your emotions and keeping up a good impression is an immense amount of work. I am not equipped to continue to act as though I am not completely and utterly lost.
But that’s what depression is, right?
Depression isn’t sadness or anger that manifests as sleeping through days only to wake up more sad and angry.
Depression is waking up and smiling when someone asks her how things are going.
Depression is “can’t complain” and “oh you, know, same old stuff” so that the person she’s talking to isn’t obligated to actually listen to her crippling sadness.
Depression is deleting that facebook status, text message or tweet so that people don’t read it and assume she’s fishing for attention.
Depression is being terrified of posting the emotional blog post meant to cope with emotion because the last one made it’s way to her boss.
Depression is not admitting the depths of her torment so that she don’t scare people into making her situation worse when they realize the reality of her present thoughts.
Depression is holding on to her pain and fucked up thought process so that she doesn’t burden someone else’s mind with her already unbearable load.
Depression shares the lyrics, poems and words she hopes you’ll see reflect her pain on the inside but then says “oh I just liked them” when you ask why she shared them.
Depression looks like smiles and laughter and sarcasm attending parties or lunch dates, when she’d rather cry and stare at the wall.
Depression is not getting offended when her friends tell her that she’ll “never get a date with confidence like that” or “maybe if you weren’t so cynical all the time someone would want to be with you”.
Depression is blindly allowing people to tell her, “you’re amazing” after they just criticized her personality, because pointing out the contradiction would be “negative”. Depression is taking pictures of other people so that she doesn’t ever have to be in them.
Depression wishes she had more pictures with the people she loves.
Depression is going to the event where everyone will ask her to talk about her life she hates and chatting with everyone.
Depression cracks the joke before you find time to pity her.
Depression cries herself to sleep at night, desperately wishing someone cared about her enough to want to hold her.
Depression goes to bed alone every night still believing in love and celebrating the joy their friends find in one another.
Depression avoids looking into mirrors to see the outward appearance that the world deems unattractive but smiles graciously when you tell her “you’re so pretty when you try”.
Depression pretends like “trying” to be more fit/active/pretty is annoying so it feels intentional when you’re not getting the more polished version.
Depression lets you find her dates on tinder even though the thought of someone meeting her face to face and running from her appearance leaves her feeling empty and ashamed.
Depression works tirelessly to be positive and uplifting for those around her because someone always has it worse.
Depression has to pretend your unintentional comments haven’t left her feeling envious and upstaged.
Depression needs to “stop” and “love herself” otherwise no one else will.
Depression can’t answer the question “how are you” honestly without ruining her chances at finding love, success or new friendships.
Depression has a million reasons to smile and be grateful, but can’t seem to reach them even on the best days.
Depression will go to sleep alone and wait to see who reads/comments on her posts but still not fully comprehend being loved and cared for.
Depression can’t show her face to you because nothing so ugly and worthless should take up your time.
Depression can’t let you see what she really looks like when she’s broken.
Depression doesn’t trust you not to walk away when she does.
Depression is exhausting, and I am drained.