Depression,

I have never spoken words to you because I was afraid you would not listen. That, and ever since you entered my life, you have pushed me and pulled me and drained me of strength, and I fear this confrontation may set you off again. However, there are things that need to be said and I will not wait one more dreary night to express them. Please listen to these words, for I have not asked anything else of you.

I don’t remember how you came into my life, perhaps because of your predatory nature. Your footsteps trailed behind me in the halls at school, the sidewalks that snake around my neighborhood, and eventually up the stairs of my own home. I am not here to deny the security you have provided me with. Since the day you stepped close enough to send chills down my neck and whisper your promise, I have had something to rely on, something constant. You promised me you’d never leave, and I found comfort in that.

It was just you and me, and no one else. My friends would try to strike conversation but you’d always interrupt. Thanks to you, I hardly see those dear friends anymore and I know that if I ever try to, you will give me a cold shoulder. You said I don’t need to be loved, that I don’t deserve it.  My mother would knock on my bedroom door, only to hear silence like every other time before, and I’d be curled on my side, shivering from your cold stare and hoping that I could fade into the darkness surrounding me.

I hated it when you pushed me into the bathroom and left me crying on the tile floor for three hours. Even worse, sometimes you drained my feelings, locked them away and left me numb. I’d play music, feel nothing, look through old photographs, feel nothing, talk to fake friends, feel nothing, then resort to staring at the ceiling as my body lay prostrate on the wood floor. Do you remember that night when my mom left in frustration and you locked the car doors and peered through the window as I cried hot tears? Do you recall the heaving and gagging as I slid two fingers down my throat? You held my hair back and told me keep trying, you’re almost there. Do you remember the sleepless nights, the tossing and turning, the nightmares that were better than reality?  One night you kept me up with knocks on my bedroom window, whispering, It’d be so easy. I’ll even open it for you. I pushed my blotted face into my pillow and ignored you. I know you didn’t like that because at midnight a few nights later, you sealed a plastic bag with little red pills and handed it to me, saying, I’m just trying to help. 

I no longer believe that you want to help, for if you did, you would not have encouraged me to hate myself and shown me such a black and white world. I do not want to share any more nights with you, I do not want to hear your whispered lies or torturous temptations, nor feel your eyes burn into me as you watch the pain eat me alive. Without you, maybe I can learn to love myself and accept the love of others that I have rejected ever since we met. I know this is hard for you and I am sorry to shock you with this news, but I do not need you any longer. Don’t worry, though, I will never forget you.  The scars across my stomach are some of your most beautiful work and they will remind me of the long nights we shared. I will not miss those nights, but instead sleep peacefully knowing you are not at my bedside any longer. I will wake up in the morning and smile because I am still alive, and then I will smile a little more, remembering how it always made you cringe. My new found happiness will prove that I am truly breaking free from you.