Dear Depression,
     

You’re a black cloud, swirling above my head, bringing nothing but rain. You’re a thick film of mucus that covers all of my senses and coats my brain. You change the way I interpret every single thing I encounter. You turn blue skies to gray. You’re the dam in my river of happiness, interrupting the flow and causing floods of emotions and chaos. Everything changes when you’re around. You’ve ruined days, weeks, months, and even years of my life. You’re an uninvited guest; and you need to leave.
   

 A 15-year-old girl with strawberry-blonde hair and tears in her eyes sits in her bedroom, contemplating whether life is worth all of this suffering. She has lots of work to do with school and other activities, but she can’t focus on anything except the pain of ten thousand knives at stabbing her heart and slicing through her mind. She wants to get better; she really does. If only it were that simple she thinks. If only she could escape this mind-numbing void of despair. If only someone could rescue her from this living Hell. But, since it isn’t that simple, and she can’t escape, and no one is there to rescue her, she continues to sit in her room and think.
     

That 15-year-old girl was me. My age may have changed, but your presence has not. You are the predator; I am the prey. You follow me around, waiting for a chance to strike. I constantly feel as if my being hunted. You watch me with you cold, dead eyes, judging every move I make. “You’re worthless,” you say “ You will never be enough. You should just die already.” Why are you so mean? Can’t you just leave me alone?
     

I sit in a cramped waiting room on the 6th floor of Toledo Hospital. Inspirational posters line the walls with messages of hope. A lady comes through a door and calls my name. I muster the strength to stand and she leads my parents and I down a long hallway, to a tiny room with four chairs. This is the first step in exterminating this troublesome pest I think to myself.
     

The lady says she is going to give me a test and asks me a series of questions. I formulate each response carefully in order to avoid giving away too many details to my parents about what has been going on in my head for the past few years. She asks my parents to leave the room and asks me the same set of questions. I answer a little more openly this time. She can tell that I’m anxious; my leg has been bouncing nonstop and I’ve been stuttering like crazy. She puts her calm hand on my wildly fidgeting knee and looks into my eyes with the most pure, reassuring look. “Everything is gonna be okay” She says. As if by magic, I immediately become tranquil. Something about her warm gaze and trusting eyes makes me feel as though I have nothing to worry about. I finish the rest of the appointment and by the end I am diagnosed with two mental illnesses: depression and an unspecified anxiety disorder. Now that I have identified you, I can destroy you.
     

I will not let you rule my life. I will not let you determine my future. You are the one who is worthless. You are the one who should leave. I am stronger now than I ever was and you will not break me.

Signed,
Your Worst Enemy