Michaela Rollings

My depression is one component of my identity, but it doesn’t share my face or my name. It is something else entirely. Something scary and dark and lonely and so completely unlike me.

A lot of people confuse “needing” someone with loving them. But they are not synonymous. When you need someone, you lose your independence and agency as a human being, because you’re constantly reliant on another person.

I know that it’s important to deal with heartbreak alone, without relying on attention from the opposite sex as a crutch. But during the actual recovery process, all I wanted was someone to fill that void.

It hits you like a ton of bricks. It knocks the air out of your lungs. And it’s the best feeling in the world.

Love does not mean co-dependency. Love does not mean pain and suffering and yelling and hurting and scars.

Life is too short to surround yourself with people who don’t realize how amazing you are.

I let myself miss you because I loved you, because you were mine and I was yours in a way that I never thought was possible.

At the end of the day, you have to fall asleep knowing that you are the best you that you can be.

Sadness seeps down into your soul. It bypasses all rationale, dilutes the power of logic and the mind.

Not in the pathetic, annoying sense. But in the loving and caring sense.

Sure, breaking up with someone is gut wrenching, painful, depressing, and usually ugly.