My depression is not is for you to understand. I don’t even understand it myself and I live with it every waking moment of my life.
It is not being sad sporadically. I am not sad. I am empty and numb to the fact that my life is being held captive by what seems like a forty foot tall monster with razor sharp teeth and white eyes that shine their best in the night.
It is not me wanting attention. When it comes to my depression I want it locked in a bullet-proof safe at the bottom of the ocean so no one can ever know.
It is not something I made up just to feel different from everyone else. If anything all I want is to be normal. I hate walking around knowing that I’m different from any teen that passes my way in a flash all because of a chemical imbalance in my brain that I have no control over.
It is not something that I would ever wish upon anyone. I am not okay and I might not ever be, I have to live with this constant feeling of wanting to stay in bed and never move because I’m tired of fighting to free my own mind.
It is not a conversation piece for you to pick at whether I am there or not. Who likes to have one of their biggest insecurities being pointed at with question after question that sometimes you don’t even know the answer to.
It is not an inspiration. Just because I walk around with confidence as if I actually had any, and plaster a fake smile to get through the day without being nagged about if I’m okay doesn’t mean that because you think I live without a care I am anything to aspire to by any means.
My depression is mine and you will never understand and please don’t try to.