The Diary of a Depressed Child

September 13, 2011
By Anonymous

June 10th, 2008
I’ve known I’ve had something wrong with my emotions since I was 8 years old. I told my parents about it and they were positive that it was just a phase that I was going through. I knew it wasn’t but I couldn’t convince them. After a while I got used to replying to everyone who asked me how I was feeling with ‘fine’. I would have extreme lows every once and a while, but I had no one to tell it to. I had no one to help me get out of my great wholes of depression; instead everyone else was standing at ground level with their happiness not even noticing that I had just fallen into a large hole. I learned over time how to hide my emotions and make everything think I was fine, but that crumbled when I moved to Maryland. I had no friends at my new school and everyone seemed weird. I ignored it for a while, but that stopped in my 8th grade year. My suspicion of having a problem was proven and given a name when my health class watched a suicidal video. I tried once more to tell my parents about my problem and finally they decided to have me talk to someone and prove to me that I was fine, but we found out I wasn’t. A therapist told me I needed to take medicine and see someone. So, I started the medicine and everything started to go well until the last day of May. My family was gone and I was home alone. I wasn’t feeling very happy that day so I decided to have a Popsicle and feel better. But when I went into the drawer in the kitchen that had the scissors and saw a knife. I started thinking of suicide so I called my parents. They came home and after a while we sat down to talk. After we did my mother looked at me like she was scared of the way I thought. I laughed and said, “You think I’m crazy, don’t you mom?” She looked shocked but said, “No, I’m sad that you think like that.” I got angry because my mother was feeling sad for herself when I needed someone to talk to and not someone I needed to comfort. So I replied, “Well get over it.” She got up and left the room in anger and I quietly cried because I felt like I was a bother to my mother, so I wanted to die. But that’s exactly what she didn’t want me thinking, so I went upstairs.
I hope I don’t committee suicide before the end of high school. It would be bad for my friends, but I don’t know if I can last living for 4 more years. Hopefully everything will work out in the end.

July 21st, 2008
That thought has passed. I will be happy just to make it through freshman year. I finally realized that my group of friends just use me and that they are a bunch of freaks and s***s. I have barely anything in common with them and they proved they aren’t true friends a few weeks ago. Maria and Mandy(Rebecca also) got a call from two drunk guys (Danny and Erick) so they decided to go help them even though we were at my friend Allie’s house and her father is a major control freak. But they insisted on going and I knew they couldn’t handle themselves around two drunken guys that they liked, so I went with them. Sadly, once we met the guys, I was the only one who still wanted to go back to Allie’s. Then they all decided they were going to a park instead. I hated my town and really wasn’t looking forward to walking around town at 2 in the morning with two drunken guys I hate. Finally I decided I wasn’t going to follow them just because of peer pressure. I told them I was leaving and going back to Allie’s. They begged me to stay and were scared of me walking back by myself. I told them to either come with me or stay with the guys and they chose the guys over me. Immediately I knew I had made a mistake when I became friends with them. I walked back and got scared so I called and talked to Molly and Allie (who were at the house). I snuck back into Allie and they hugged me as I cried out of fright. So…that was the main thing that sent me over the wall of friendship and into another depression hole. I thought for a while about still being friends with Molly, Allie, and Rebecca(who didn’t go), but Allie is too weird for me, Molly is going to end up doing drugs with her band members, and Rebecca said she would’ve gone with the three girls. I know I had no friends and I was going into High school just like I had in middle school. Let’s just say next year is going to suck and I’m going to probably commit suicide….But I hope not.

September 1st, 2008
Today I was at a neighborhood get together. It’s Labor Day so we decided to eat together. We had fun, but then my brother broke my favorite pair of shoes that I had gotten from my uncle. I got mad so I yelled at him and then my sister tried to defend him so I yelled at her. Then I was given the choice to either deal with the problem or leave, so I went home by myself. Then I went inside and was almost crying and felt like I didn’t want to live anymore, so I went to the knife drawer in my kitchen and took out a small knife. I decided to cut my wrists, so I pulled the blade across my wrist but it didn’t go through. Then I took out a large butcher’s knife and pulled it across my wrist. I felt a lot of pain but after it felt really good, like I had taken drugs of some kind. So, I silt my wrist three more time but was interrupted after by my friends who are my neighbors and they wanted to see if I was okay. I said I was fine and told them they had to leave. When they were away from my house I started to cry again, so I took out the same knife and added two more small slits in my wrist. Finally I stopped and ran upstairs to get a band-aid. I came to type this after and now I don’t know what to do. If I go back to the neighbors everyone will be mad and then they will see my huge band-aid on my left wrist and my parents will call my therapist. But if I don’t go I might get the feeling again and cut myself. Also my dad will yell at me. I think I’m going to go and just hide the band-aid.

November 3rd, 2008
Labor day worked out badly and now I am seeing Dr. D (therapist u can talk to that has a REALLY long name). Now I’m a friend with that group of people from before, just so I’m not committing social suicide. My BFF is my worst enemy and most of my life is going down hill, but I’m still trying to crawl out of the hole life is pulling me down. But guys are starting to notice me and I’m trying to be more outgoing. BTW I’ve started reading books about vampires and stuff. I’ve read like 200 over the past 6 months. It’s fun. Well gtg. Going to volleyball practice.

March 13th, 2010
Ive had my first boyfriend and in exactly one month from the beginning of the relationship I lost my best friend, my first love, and myself to my natural darkness that slowly is corroding my mind, body, and soul. Since then things have gone up hill twice, but when they hit their lows they were record breaking. I had not been this deep into darkness in a long time. But tonight I have realized something about myself that I have been debating about for a while. I’ve wondered why I have two groups of friends and can never seem to connect them. This is the truth:
Missy, Alex, Rob, and most of my close school friends (the people I go out to do stuff with and to fill my time) are my dream.
Elena, Kelly, Jenny, and Jocelyn (the people I spend my lunches with alongside any other time I can be with them during school) are my reality.
I want to be like my first group of friends. Hanging out, enjoying every moment with as many people as possible or my core group of friends, and go do things often. That is my dream self and when people look at me that is the stereotype they see and think I am. In truth I am one of my second group of friends. Hanging out with only those who truly understand me, having mental problems, and connecting to people who are just like me. I hate that I am one of them. I want to be like Missy and Rob. I want to be the person I pretend to be 90% of my time. The things I say and do, I want them to actually be what I am thinking. But this is never going to happen no matter how much I try. Recently I have been thinking that I had a choice as I have been told by so many therapists in the past, but the truth is my choice was made for me. I had no say in the matter. Foolishly, I have been trying to hang out with only my first group of friends. Trying to study them in hopes that I could someday become one of them, but it was a frivolous attempt. I dropped deeper into my own abyss. I cannot run from my truth any longer. I am a hermit hiding in a model’s skin. I am nothing more than a writer that would rather be typing the story of someone who has, is, and never will exist than talking to someone or laughing with a group of friends. I have even found myself at points where the only reason I believe it is worth my time to keep living is to write these stories since I have been told that a bright mind is a terrible thing to waste. Now I may not be smart and have a brilliant mind, but I do have this imagination no one else has. I have never heard of someone writing about Yuki and Kiko’s secret affair while trying to stay alive or Yui fighting a chivalrous battle against angels of the devil while slowly falling in love with an angel of god or Felicia being led by Henry through the dark and terrifying forests on the mountains that border Parethia in order to keep their royal blood alive or Hazuki battling killers on the border of Germany in order to save the man she loves. And now I may stop volleyball because I cannot handle it anymore. I may love to play, I may love the way it feels when I spike the ball or block a hit, but it is not worth the mental strain it is taking on me. Slowly, as my junior year comes closer to becoming a reality, my life is slowly crumbling beneath my feet and is slowly presenting the dark and horrid side of me I try to conceal in order to protect myself and not scare the ones who I am close to.

March 17th, 2010
Death seems the only way out of this hell I call myself. I hate myself. I hate my mind. I hate my feelings. I hate my weakness. I have no power over my own body and I can’t stand it any longer. My skin burns where I’ve scratched myself with anger or picked at my skin in order to release my own pain against myself. But it seems the only thing I can control about myself anymore is my pain. Imagining cutting off my own arm cannot be normal. Deciding what I could use to hang myself in each room I go to is not healthy or right. I should be able to at least enjoy some aspect of life but the only thing that seems to keep my interest is death. I’ve caused too much stress on my parents and now I think the only way out of this is to isolate myself from everyone and everything in order to try to stop this madness. All I’ve ever wanted to do was please my parents, but that seems to only injure me more. I am going to try to only listen to my heart for now and see if I can save myself because if I don’t guilt of everyone else in my life will force my hand around a trigger and pull.

March 18th, 2010
I can’t scream any louder for someone to save me without actually bringing myself to speak of such horrid matters. Scratching my wrist is actually an ingenious thing to do if I do say so myself. It will heal easy, it will typically not bleed, it’s not very easy to see like if I cut my wrists and it is something I can do without having to relocate. It is insane that I could get away with clawing at my own flesh without anyone else noticing and if they did ever end up asking me I have a very sickening feeling I would just say I have a rash. I understand that what most people write they can say, but I cannot seem to find my voice to let out the words. I am dying. I am slowly rotting from the inside out like an over ripe fruit and I want someone to stop me. I am harm to myself and am too smart for my own good. I can trick everyone to think everything is alright with me until they finally add everything up and by that time I cannot be near them anymore. I move on. I go back to living in a small hole by myself. No one beside me, no one to save me, no hand to reach and help me come out of this darkness. And, to tell you the truth, I thought I had finally found someone who could do that for me. I thought my best friend and the person I had slowly fallen in love with could save me, but before I knew it he was gone and was uncertain. Did I cause it? He dumped me not even two weeks after I told him the way I truly thought of everything and how he was slowly helping me gain enough strength to get myself out of this hole. I was happy for the first time and felt high all the time. But suddenly it was gone and I feel as if I cannot find that strength with anyone else and this makes me wonder. If I did hang myself as I dreamt last night would anyone truly care? Would I receive so much sadness and love as Montana did when he did commit suicide? Would I receive a fund and would people actually care? Would my ex blame it on himself after dumping me? I want answers, but if I cannot even tell someone I need them to save me how can I expect them to give me the things I want? Losing interest in school, self control, friends, emotions other than sadness…has my soul already died?

March 19th, 2010
It’s over. I’m giving up. No, more correctly I’ve given up. It has already happened. I’m done trying to fix this. I’m done trying to change. I am suicidal and I’m not hiding anymore. I think of killing myself almost every second of the day and enjoy my own suffering I produce. This acceptance has stopped my scratching and I am better in a form most would not name it such. I can’t keep trying to make up things to get people’s sympathy in order to fill the void I have in myself. Usually something like lack of parents love would cause something like needing the sympathy of others, but I did not have that. The only explanation I can come up with is that I am naturally selfish and have no one to blame but myself. I’m sorry that I cannot try to get better anymore in order to please my parents, but I need this. Without it I am hurting them and me more than if I just accept that I can never please them. I can never be a child that can just have a nice life, get good grades, and play a sport like I pretend I am. I don’t want to cry anymore because I have let everyone down and for once I am doing something just for me. I always think things through to hide myself but no more. I want to be myself. I want to be the insane person I am and if society cannot accept me, then that’s too bad. I’m not going to do something just to please others that cause me to want to die more. Hiding my true self is making me worse and I just don’t want this anymore. The only choices I have left is to either let my parents get mad at me that I am the way I am and just take the yelling and questioning or I can finally kill myself. I wish there was a way I could live with my parents accepting what I am, but I’m also not a toddler anymore. I know there’s no true thing like a happy ending. I know there is no prince charming. I know they are all just as imaginary as the hope that my parents could accept me. But I have to do this. For once I want to accept myself and if that is going to affect the life they want me to have then that’s that. If they want to send me somewhere to solve me, then fine. But I am not going to lose myself again. I am accepting myself even if no one else can.

December 29th, 2010
Hey, it’s been a while. Things have been happening and I haven’t had much time to write other than things that jump into my head for stories lately. I felt entitled to write today due to the fact that yesterday was the abrupt funeral for Pop’s sister, named Lois. It was a difficult day for everyone but for me I could not stop thinking, what if I was in the casket? Who would be sitting in these pews crying for me? Would anyone cry for me? I’m sure someone would, but would it be for the right reason to cry? Would it be because I had a bright future that everyone could see except me or would it be because that person could not say goodbye? Would they cry because they lost their baby or because they were ashamed they lost their baby by her own hands? I’m not sure. All I know is I could never be as strong as my great uncle Ivan when it came time for him to say goodbye to his sister. I have never seen someone so brave before. I cried for him at the funeral. Not for Lois, not for her kids, not for her grandkids, but for her brother who did not shed a tear. I cried for that strong man so he wouldn’t have to. I will probably never tell him I cried for him because he would probably say I didn’t need to, but I had and wanted to. I felt it was the right thing to do. One tear was all I let go of but I believe it was sufficient enough for him and enough so I could do what I felt needed to be done and enough so no one else would try to comfort me. Another thought I had during the ceremony was if and when Ivan or his wonderful wife Peaches passes away, how will I live on? I had so much trouble holding on after losing Pop but if I lost Ivan…I still don’t know what I will do. I know the day will come soon when I get the message that he is gone and all I know is I will finally be able to cry all I wanted to at Pop and Lois’s funerals. I won’t do it in front of the others, but I will cry. I will cry enough for him, my dad, my family, myself, and for the little girl that thought the world of Pop. She will finally get to cry and come alive to morn for the loss of the most influential man in her life, regardless of how little time they spent together. She will finally get to rest in peace and die alongside that glorious man and maybe get to hear him tell her stories once more in the next life. That’s all I could wish for. That’s all I want before I go.

January 1st, 2011
I was left to my own horrible thoughts today at lunch. I hate these times when I have no one there for me. I try to force myself to eat every time I am stuck alone at lunch but this time when I ate I had difficulty swallowing and almost started to cry in front of many others that inhabited the hallway. My body seemed to be rejecting my sorry excuse for lingering on with existence. How long can I keep this charade up? When will this hell end? When will I get enough courage to take my life I hate so much? I cannot tell you how many times I have wished I could give up my gift of life, of breath, of mind to someone else. Millions of people die, including children, who could help the world and deserve this existence more than I do. But is it selfish to take your own life? Is it taking the easiest way out? Is it giving up and not trying? When have you suffered enough for it to be considered not giving up? Who decides what’s a noble reason to sacrifice yourself? I want these answers so badly I could do almost anything. I don’t think it is good to go through life hating each breath you take but I don’t know if I in this society or in this world if that matters.

Sorry, once again, for the lack of writing. Well things have changed once more in my life. I am now dating a boy who deserves much more than I can offer. He always says he loves me regardless and was even okay when I told him I was seeing a therapist for my “lack of self confidence” which wasn’t the entire truth of the matter, but this was all I could possibly bare to tell him. If I ever did tell him everything he would likely say he still loves me but I have a hunch he would just stay with me for the awe that he has a girlfriend he believes is better than he deserves. Yet, I think he will never be able to understand that being happy for the first time in a long time is making it so I have even less self esteem and more frequent depression dips such as the one I am in tonight. This depression dip has led me to the realization that I what I am searching for is something more than this world can offer regardless of how hard I try. It was a sudden moment of pure numbing horror in one of my episodes that brought along this realization. I’m sorry, I would write more but my mind is so numb right now and I feel so…not sick…but something is wrong even though I can’t pin point what it is that makes me feel so wrong, that I can’t really think. But, I would like to leave this tid-bit of information that I have been deliberating: do I have the guts to ever hurt the people that know me by killing myself?

March 25th,2011
I feel empty. I cannot seem to sleep. I cannot seem to eat. I have no desire to do anything involving the real world. I’m aching for something more than this world can offer while feeling empty for not being able to be happy with what I have been given. I don’t want to go to school tomorrow, but I do not want to feel guilt for not going. I want to end, but maybe that is just because I do not feel complete and cannot seem to find anything to fill this void within me. Possibly, this is what people would call being selfish but I am so far from sanity right now I can barely pertain that I am existing. Is existing supposed to feel this bad? I am so confused on what to do anymore. Am I selfish? Should I hate my thoughts even though my mind is so numb? I hate my typical thoughts but when I am merely driven by my natural desires I feel so empty. Is it better to feel hopelessly empty, so empty you feel as though you are being suffocated by whatever is missing or is it better to hide from the world behind a fake me and suffer the physical pains that this brings me? What is it I lack that could be this painful? Or possibly do I not lack anything, I simply have too much of something? Am I sane or have I finally gone mad? What can I do to stop this pain in my chest? When will it end? How will I survive for now until I figure out how to resolve this? Am I just tired but cannot feel it and I am hallucinating? Or am I just going through another emotional abyss I go through so often? Will my mind erase again as it has done before when I have dropped this far down into depression? Possibly I have hit a point of no return.

March 31st, 2011
My house is in chaos. Everyone is mad. My parents are both mad because I gave my friend a ride because he was in a bind for time even though I am not allowed to drive anyone other than family members for another month. My mom says she’s not mad, but she is pretty much shunning me. My dad has gotten so mad he has thrown things around and yelled at everything anyone does that he does not agree with 100%. I have been studying for almost an entire week straight for my AP Psych test that is Monday, but I haven’t gained any better scores on my practice tests. I am worthless. I cannot be the perfect student. I am stupid. I am unworthy of my parents’ love, even though they are not giving me any for the time being. I’m not worthy of my boyfriend. He deserves the best person in the world while he is dating me and I am very far from a good person. I want to break up with him because I now truly love him and realize that I am going to hold him down later in life and am already doing so. Every time I see him I want to tell him he should date someone else because I am not good enough, but I know he won’t accept that, but because I love him I don’t want to let him go. I am truly selfish just as others have said before. I am not even worthy of death. I should have never been born.

May 2nd, 2011
Since Mason’s death I can’t help but realize that if I died people that have barely known me would be saddened because of my death, just as I feel towards Mason. I couldn’t help but feel ashamed for not playing volleyball when I met my old coach again today at a Co-Ed game, which led me to one of the key reasons I quit, Mason. That’s all I have time to say for now.

The author's comments:
This is my true story of events that happened that I wrote as they happened. Everything is true, except for personal reasons, all the names have been changed that were included in my entries

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