de·pres·sion
/d??preSH(?)n/
noun
noun: depression; plural noun: depressions
feelings of severe despondency and dejection.

    Depression is another obstacle in life that truly doesn’t vanish. Instead, it imbeds a tiny remnant of itself into the middle of your being and gets ready for another power struggle between the two opposing forces, joy and itself, depression. It lies in wait, ready to slay down joy’s being and take over as the unconquerable one.
    Apparently, when I’m controlled by this depressed being, my sarcasm tends to go out of the roof, as if it wasn’t already. It’s on a whole new level, some people said. And my typical introverted vacation stretches on, perpetuating to weeks, perhaps. Days would be considered normal, nothing new.

“It hurts Christina
and I can tell you are hiding something
but you are being so mean about it
you are isolating yourself from everyone
and when those around you approach you
you just close
and you start being mean to people
you have been this way for months now
and i [it] hurts”
-Karen, November 11, 2014

    And you may suddenly see how I am now when I’m in one of these depressed moods. For some odd reason, it changed this year. Perhaps it’s due to some maturing or weakening of my mind? In my personal opinion, it seems as if I have become a more vulnerable and frail being, which is definitely what I wish to be. I wish to be strong and bold, and yet, my state seems pathetically horrible always, especially now.

Well at least last year, no one really bothered to change my patterns of isolating myself.  My joints constantly ached, with my legs crammed into a chair in the Learning Commons.But it didn’t matter to me. It felt perfectly fine to be by myself, alone in the world. Cold, secluded, and now left alone… That was honestly the best part of those sad-stricken days. Being by myself, sifting through every thought that popped up and actually answering the questions that came up, without any human disruptions. The chilly air in the library stimulated my thinking to be slightly more sane, rather than going insane. Because at this time, I was failing most of my classes and being tardy, in terms of homework. Oh, Powerschool, every day, was always a dread to hear about, especially from my parents. They’d throw a fit every single day, and I stopped caring, and of course, stopped trying as well. Everything just went rock-bottom, and there was nowhere to go, as I sank down deeper into my troubles, my misery.

And this year, as I go through the same phase yet again, I feel myself drowning in the same substance, despite the reasons being different. I’ve been able to cope with it exceptionally well, and so, I’ve levied the burden off my fellow classmates, so that they can succeed far more than I would ever. Rather than facing my friends straight in the eye, I’ve gone through most means to avoiding any contact with them, due to not only isolating myself but also sparing myself of doubting myself yet again.
Currently, I doubt myself and my friends’ mutual trusts. They haven’t done anything wrong to me, whatsoever. And yet, I find myself trembling to tell them anything at all, to even update them on my mental or emotional status. A simple “I’m fine” tends to do the job, so why add more? No one seemed to delve deeper into my life, nor did I do the same. I have quite an amount of shallow relationships, and yet, they feel as deep as the brewing ocean. Is it perhaps due to the memories I’ve had with them throughout the crazy freshman year I had experienced alongside them? Or was it because of all the possible nostalgia that perhaps arose from these.. people? Calling them friends tickle the ends of my tongue, and doing so sends a screaming voice up my veins.
    “You stupid idiot!” My trust in my friends wanes very prominently due to me.. possibly transferring out of the school I love and hate so much. It’s a matter of, “Should I build any more bonds before slashing them off to go to public school?” and also “Will they even care?”. You could call this doubt, but this is also my depression coming into play. Because I definitely know I’m depressed when I stop caring about my health and become completely self-conscious about my words and actions. My will to express myself has been shot down, to the point where even being called on by the teacher is honestly an intimidating experience in itself.
    My body, also, has become a lot more fragile than it was, say, pre-summer. I can no longer pull those all-nighters without batting an eye. There’s a cost, always. Equivalent exchange, you may say, but that owl figure, staring at me straight in the eye, glares at me as I type away at this piece. It’s telling me to sleep, and yet, I cannot obey. A blood vessel burns in my appendix, cursing me to go on. Pains also occur everyday, and headaches are always prominent throughout the day, alongside chest pains. There’s nothing wrong with both of those things; however, there have been days when I’ve had them multiple times throughout the day, without telling a single soul. And it’s not like anyone notices when I crouch over, scrunching my already wrinkled face, and stay absolutely silent with my hand pinned over my heart, begging the organ to stop breathing so heavily and to calm down.
    But of course, that never quite happens, until after some chemical substance relieves me of my pain and leads me back to the reality I wished I didn’t exist in. Stings, aches, and jabs throughout my body that would never quite stop, despite me begging on my knees. Heartbreaks and emotional breakdowns I wished never happened. Scarred memories that I wished weren’t burned into my heart, forever alert around my parents. And friends who are oblivious to all of this… or rather most of them. Only two seemed to know when something was up.
    And yet, they can’t put their finger on it. But really… it’s better off that way.

I wouldn’t want to burden them, after all.
They would be so pained by me.
And I wouldn’t want that.
And I know they wouldn’t want that,
on top of everything they already have.