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I am depressed. Plain and simple, I’m depressed. I have been for years. However, it’s just starting to really get to me this year. It’s hard to write this down in actual sentences. Lately, I’ve been writing poems to express how I’m feeling. But it’s time for me to write this all down so I can finally get over it.
I first became depressed in 6th and 7th grade. I noticed that people were talking about me behind my back, flat-out ignoring me, and giving me weird looks when I gave my opinion. 7th grade is when I went through a rough patch with my friends.
My friends would take my things and tease me. I always knew they were joking around and for a long time, I went along with it. But then they started to make me feel really stupid. I told them this and yet they still continued. I felt as though I had been stabbed in the back. I’d had these friends for years and they start making fun of me. I told them they were hurting me, but they just kept going.
A year later, I realized that one of my cousins liked my brother better than me. She always wants to be around him and never me. I once tried telling her that my own family prefers my brother to me and she walked away. To go hang out with him. That one really hurt me. It just made me realize that my family really does like my brother better than me.
About two years ago, it hit me that two more of my cousins prefer him to me. By then, I wasn’t really surprised. Although, it still hurt me all the same. They always want to be with him. If they decide they’re all going to hang out together, I have to invite myself. How sad is that?!My own cousins won’t even invite me; only my brother. I started to wonder why they only want to be with him.
So, I compare. Probably the worst thing I could do and I do it. I want to find out why he’s so much better than me and so I compare. He’s loud and obnoxious; I’m quiet and timid. He’s funny and crazy; I’m boring and dull. He’s outgoing and adventurous; I’m reserved and cautious. All of these things that he is and I’m not are why people want to be with him. Why he has so many friends and why our cousins prefer him. When I think these things, I don’t stop. I keep bringing myself father and farther down. I even go so far as to thinking that I have no friends. That ‘my friends’ pity me because they know that my brother is so much better. They only hang out with me because they feel sorry for me. I have cried myself to sleep so many times this year. Whenever I try to cheer myself up, I send my hopes crashing down. Any happy thought that occurs to me, I tear it to shreds and bring myself further down.
I don’t want to be like this; always bringing myself down. It’s something that I struggle with. Probably what scares me most is how well I can hide it. Most people haven’t got a clue that I’m depressed. And people that have an idea, don’t know it’s this bad. On the days where it gets to me, I just hide it. I put on a fake smile and tell everyone I’m fine if they ask. I don’t want to lie to my friends. I just don’t want to talk about it. I’m afraid that if I tell people that I’m depressed, they’ll think I’m just trying to get attention. And that’s not true. I’m deeply hurting inside and I don’t know how to handle it. I talk to a very select few of friends expecting them to make everything go away. But that’s not fair to them. How can they help me when I won’t help myself? I just want to be done with it. I want to not care what others think of me. That’s easier said than done. What bugs me most is when people know I’m around, yet they act as though I’m invisible.
This past summer I was a junior counselor at a Youth Camp. One night, a bunch of us jr. counselors and an older counselor are all down at the public camp grounds, sitting at a bench talking. They were all talking about stuff I didn’t know and didn’t want to talk about. Fine by me. But they talked about that stuff for roughly half an hour. Not once did they change the subject so that I could join in. I just sat there thinking when we were going to go back to camp. Finally, we did. It didn’t get any better as I’d hoped. It got worse. As soon as we got back, Bob came to tell us that two others had been fighting. I wanted to hear about this so I tried to squeeze myself into their circle they had made. No one budged. After a while though, Bob piped up and said to let me in. Again, no one budged. So he moved someone aside and I squeezed in. Immediately I was pushed right back out. (I wasn’t really pushed, but they all moved so I was left out again.) I stood there for a few minutes hoping he’d say something again. But he didn’t. So, without looking back or saying a word, I walk away to my tent as the tears start to fall down my cheeks. I didn’t understand. Earlier that day, we had all gotten along just fine. All talking and laughing, wondering how tomorrow was going to go. As soon as night fell however, I became invisible. So I did the only thing I could; talk to a friend. A real friend. I grabbed my cell phone and start texting a trusted friend.
Wut do you mean?
They all exclude me
No one wants me around
All the older counselors and jr. counselors.
You can’t let them get to you. They’re just a bunch of jerks.
But I’m crying
Those jerks aren’t worth crying over
So how do I feel better?
Can I call?
Maybe. If we kept it short. I go into the Activities Tent so no one would see me because I knew he was going to call. I sit on the picnic table and wait.
“So tell me again what happened?”
“I told you. They wouldn’t change the subject so I could join in. I tried to get in their little circle, but I was pushed right back out. I walked away and started crying.”
“Those jerks aren’t worth your tears. You just have to ignore them.”
“How can I when they’re the only ones I hang out with at night?”
“Listen, those jerks don’t who they’re missing out on. You’re a great girl and they’re just jealous.”
“Jealous of what?!”
“Of the fact that all the campers like you the best.”
“Haha. Thanks. At least I’m not crying anymore.”
“Good, they’re not worth your tears.” We talked for a little longer and then said goodnight. He told me to remember that they’re just jerks and not worth crying over. As I walk back to my tent, I go through our conversation again. And I start to feel somewhat better. I tell myself that I can get through the rest of this week. And I do, But not without remembering that night every day.
That night is still fresh in my mind even though it happened two months ago. People can be very mean. Some days my depression drags me down and I can’t seem to get up. Most of the time though, it doesn’t bother me. I can go months without even thinking about it. There are nights that I’ll cry myself to sleep, but usually I’m ok. I’m just like any 16-year-old in high school. Yes, I’m depressed. But I’m still me. I still have fun and hang out with friends. I just have a good cry every now and then. And that helps me heal. I am slowly, but surely getting better. I know, for a fact, I will one day be a teen without a depression.