Living In Depression, A Broken Soul
I would like to believe that people around me would be more understandable than I am. I would like to think that when I’m hurting, they would see the pain right through my heart. Everytime I go out, my eyes cant take the light. I feel more vulnerable around these people even though I know they dont know me. I am paranoid. Sometimes I wish that my imagination would create things in real so I wont get worried that I am hallucinating.
Lately I feel my world is turning upside down. I feel like no one cares, or maybe they do but I dont see anyone around me now. My heart is heavy and I feel like everything is so difficult to understand. Or maybe its just me who are difficult to talk to.
I would like to explain about depression to you. Well, I dont know where to start, but I know that since childhood I have been through a lot. Some difficulties and tragedies I shouldn’t be with.
I loved my little family, truthfully I call them family. I am the eldest, I have wonderful siblings. There are two boys and one little sister. Shes fine you know? When you see her she will not like you. Shes kinda different I suppose. Maybe I have put too much negative things on her, I dont know. But you see? We were all happy together when we were little. Theres this tiny things we argue sometimes but it all goes away for while and we’re all friends again.
Father is a good man, he is lovely. He is the man I look up to. I love him you know? Yes dear reader, my father is almost my world. You might say I am a daddy’s girl. Oh! Well thats sounds good. He is a treasure for me, now hes got silver hair and his heart weighs more than gold. Oh! Yeah I forgot, ive got mother too. Shes okay you know. We dont get along together but I guess shes alright.
|“I will love the light for it shows me the way, yet I will endure the darkness because it shows me the stars.”
You see the differences of people in depression is that, some have good families, grown up well, have wealth and lacks of nothing but attention. I am reversed, I grew up with a broken family. My mom and dad dont get along well together. They would argue even in the middle of the night just of tiny things, they speak in loud noises and my ears even swelling. But thats all.
People use to say on normal days ”im depressed” well theres a lot of sorts of that. Depression starts from the memories of childhood, additional with traumas and some tragedy or might have been into some abused situation. I dont say I am a victim coz I dont see myself that way. I am just in a wrong place and on a wrong time.
My depression causes me not to sleep, it causes me nightmares. I am worried all day and all night. I fear life even though I know that things that had happened wont ever come back again. I fear myself to things I might going to do. I fear people around me, I’mso scared so you know. I wear my smile infront of people to show that I can manage, but deep inside I’m hurting so deep that it feels like bleeding. People say I am crazy, but I guess crazy people dont have the inevitability to ask themselves if they’re crazy. I dont even have the time to know if I am going crazy myself. I have been into Bughouse, but that doesnt mean I am disfunctional. It does not mean I am handicapped and that it dont matter what I think anymore. My feelings are more heavier now and I need someone to talk to. But thats alright! Everybody’s busy nowadays. I understand everything but I cant focus at same time. I feel more confused about life and about my ownself. I see people around me as a threat, a threat to something I couldnt even define what it would be or could be. My machine is breaking, it feels like exploding in no time and I cant stop the pain. The hurt is streaming like a thunder. It breaks through my bones and then my heart feels heavy. Like it is filled with all the doubts, worry, anger and madness…but most of all that awares me is that…there is something in me…longing…yes…you read it right.. I feel longing..
There is something in my heart that I am longing but I dont know what it is. No one could explain to me either. Now I sit here in front of this screen writing about myself. Or maybe I am just a little bit stupid to speak with the keyboard when I know it will never response to everything I would say. It will just do what I want it to do. Tell me more people!! tell me I am crazy, but sure you know I will never!! never!! admit that I am crazy. Because I am not crazy, I am just full in my machine.
When I was at peak everybody cared, everybody liked me. I played the game. I speak good things that all people want to hear, I act as though everyone admired me. I smile, but no one knew I can even cry hard enough that it feels like dying. And when they see me, asking how am I and I answered them im alright or maybe not alright but it dont matter though. Because the moment I answered them I am not alright, same moment they turned around and left. And I am there alone. Standing like a fool, waiting for the next person to ask me same question in hope that maybe the next person would dare to stay at my worst. But you see? No one dared to stay. Everybody leaves just like the days, it passes by so quickly. There are none at all, they were not real.They were imaginary friends. They were there when there was nothing needed, they are there and shared the goodness and all the party around the town, I kept hanging out with them but after those times I was needing them then they disappeared like clouds. Leaving me with all my hurt and not knowing why. They look at my outer skin and says they dont judge but I can see through their eyes they speak silently, not to everyone but to themselves.
Now I felt desperation, I feel anger in me. Maybe I was wrong to love, maybe I was stupid to trust and believe too much that people have the heart. Maybe I am so stupid enough to think that the world is a better place if there are people who are good. Well, the world is already a dumpsite. All is mixed up of good and bad and no matter what I do, I know for real that the bad wins most of the time. This is the reality, so dont argue with me. I cry my tears on my pillow every night, my eyes are swollen day by day and yet I manage to wear my smile. I am disappointed that in all the things I’ve done, I am not perfect, but I know I have done good things too. But of all those it became useless, it became nothing, it meant nothing, all the people see is the worse part of me, they only see the outer part of me. Does not my heart weigh more than what I look like physically? Or maybe I would turn and ask them if theyre the one whose crazy? I dont know. But right now? I think the world is just a bare crust withholding people who are actors and actresses.
On the contrary, even if I am depressed, I still can drive myself normal. I can drink but maybe a zip, I can eat but maybe because my body needs it not because I want to. I can go out for a walk but I might gonna be into an accident. I can wear a smile to show im alright, but deep in me I am planning to die. Death is the the best escape for now to not feel lonely, to not feel fear, to not feel the living. I can hear what you say but maybe not so clear and I only hear the sound of your voice. I dont know what you say. My body functions is not working well and my aggression against myself is taking place, then because of fear, I want isolation from the outside world and keep myself inside my own box. Thought of that this can be of help, and yes it is a help. For a while, yeah, it made me feel safe inside the box, no one stares, no one asks, no one point a finger and least not one compare themselves to me. Because what they have is different for what I have now. And maybe I wish I could sleep and never wake up at all. Maybe when I’m dead, people would come on my grave and make an act they care when I was alived, hell yeah I would rather be a ghost and kick them off. I know when Im dead people would pretend to cry like we were close, they would open up messages that I have done for them and remind those funny things I do when I was with them. But it wont matter when I am dead.
Now I am still alive!! still I dont know what sort of people I have to choose, its far beyond my understanding and I feel so lost. At the moment, my mind is quiet..there is no fire or ash, no sulfur or shattering glass. Only silence, empty and cold. The city was a machine of its own, continuously producing. We were constantly pumped out through its assembly line, in different forms or models. We came hardwired with different stories, dark secrets, vices, and defects. Over time, we fail and come to find our end, but the city continues onwards