Dear Depression

Can I just start by saying fuck you? Really. Just fuck you. If you could just not be a thing in my life I would love that so much. But here you are and here’s me. We’re intertwined in each other and it’s starting to make me realize that maybe there really is no escaping you. Maybe you’re meant to be a part of me no matter what.

Remember that day we spent in Paris? The one where I cowered under my sheets. I didn’t want to see anything. I didn’t want to be around crowds. I just kept listening to your whispers that made me remember how worthless I am. I listened to you talk me into crying all day and worrying if I had made the wrong decision to leave home.

You make me feel ashamed of myself. Is that the wrong thing to say? That you’re the reason why I’m so ashamed of my past and the things I’ve done in my life to get away from you? Those nights I woke up with someone new because I couldn’t be alone with my thoughts were completely soul crushing. The nights I’d drink too much to drown out your taunting and callous words were some of my worst. I just needed to get a temporary high in order to shake you.

You’ve taken everything that was once beautiful in my life and made it dark and gritty. All of the things in my life that were once so beautiful are now things I question. I question when someone likes me. I question when I fall in love with someone. I question if I’m good at my job. I question if I’m a good enough friend or family member. Everything in my life is now one big question instead of just belief in myself and who I am.

Let’s not forget your best friend anxiety. Fuck. Both of you together are a toxic mix. On one hand, there are days where I don’t care enough about myself or anything else. But those other days when your friend anxiety visits, those days I’m hyper sensitive and care way too much about all of the outside factors in my life.

You make me feel like vulnerability is a weakness.

You make me scared to fall in love. You make me frightened that I am not going to be able to have someone love me in those dark moments. I want to be able to express my emotions without thinking that they’re not valid. I want to be able to stand in front of someone and say this is a part of me but it’s not all of me.

I don’t want you to exist anymore. I don’t want to have bad days when I can’t get out of bed and instead of owning up to you, I pretend I had a stomach flu. It’s embarrassing because everyone knows I’m lying but they think I’m just trying to skip out on work. They don’t know that the silent demons I fight every day are worse than any stomach flu could be.

Because really, when it comes to you, you make me wonder if living each and every day is worth it. And that’s scary. You make me question whether or not my life is worth it. You make me wonder if I can do this. You make me have to convince myself that I can make it through another day.

You make me take a lot of things good I have in my life for granted.

And I really fucking hate you for that.

I truly do.