I’m depressed.
Not depressed like, “man I’m so depressed I failed that exam.” I’m depressed like there hasn’t been a single day in over six months that i’ve woken up and said, “Hello world! Today is GREAT!” I’m depressed like, “I wonder if I’d die before I hit the ground or if I’d die form the impact?”
I don’t cut myself. I don’t drink myself into a coma every night. I don’t snort cocaine or MDMA until I have a heart attack. I don’t “accidentally” fall down flights of stairs. I don’t cry, very often. I don’t scream or yell or swear. I don’t tell people “I’m depressed.”
I smile. I go about my daily routine. I have a skip in my step. I’m fantastic, how are you? I don’t talk about anything that is stressing me out or making me upset. I don’t tell people that I sit in my room at night blogging pictures of cats and skinny girls. I either over eat or stop eating completely. Lately it’s been the former. I may, sometimes, let it slip that I’m a little sad. But nothing too terrible, you know?
Well. I told someone. Other than the four of you who actually read my blog. Someone who is my friend. Who I expected would reach out to me. I know she’s busy. I know she has finals and homework. I know I’m being a needy bitch. I know my life is awesome. What I don’t know is why I want to go to sleep and never wake up.
I would never kill myself. I couldn’t I’m too much of a pussy. I just…feel overwhelmed with sadness. All the time.
The levy finally broke. I had a serious emotional breakdown. Not having a place to put my stuff in my uncles house, which I’m supposed to be moving into this weekend, is what triggered it. I called my mom to vent and then I just…started crying. I cried and cried. I cried from 38th avenue N all the way back to school at 6th avenue S. The I cried in the lobby of my dorm. I cried in the elevator ride while some guy watched me with a disgusted look on his face. I cried walking to my friend’s room. I cried in her living room, in front of my friends.
They didn’t help me at all. They made it worse. The last thing to do is tell a depressed person, who is trying to rationalize themselves, “Well there you go. See you have nothing to be depressed about.”
I cried and cried and cried. When I stopped I felt empty. I stood up and left. Because they can’t help me. I walked to the elevator and hit 1 then i hurriedly hit 3 because i didn’t think i wanted to go downstairs. When the elevator stopped at 3 I hit the close doors button. I rode it down to 1. I left the dorms and walked to the parking garage. As I got in the parking garage elevator I started crying again.
I know you think this is where I’m going to tell you I looked over the ledge of the parking garage and jumped from the 7th floor to my doom. Unfortunately I parked on 3, and from past experience I know a 3rd floor fall won’t kill you. I opened my trunk and got out my dirty clothes basket full of dirty clothes.
Right now I’m sitting in my room blogging about how empty I feel. How tired I am.
I’m hoping that once finals are over and I move everything I’ll be all smiles again.
