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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: 'The Odd Ones'

Depression is a demon that has haunted me since I can remember. As I get older, I realize it's probably never going to go away.

Submitted: October 08, 2017

A A A | A A A

Submitted: October 08, 2017



My life feels like an endless circle. Something like a revolving door. 

I feel alone, torn, empty; depressed. Nothing gives me joy. 

I'll skip school and class. I won't shower for days, even weeks. My hair will get greasy and tangled to no end.

Sleeping 12 to 18 hours after staying up for days at a time.

No motivation to do anything.

Then something happens. 

I want to not be so useless. I want joy.

So I numb myself.

Every day I would endulge myself in sinful ways.

Smoking 4 packs a day. Smoking joint after joint, blunt after blunt until I passed out.

Popping Xanax and Loratabs.

Drinking until I couldn't see anymore.

Then finally, when I wake up one evening to start over again. I think about what I'm doing to myself and how my life has no meaning. 

My fingers tremble as I cut thick lines down my wrist. 

Every time I put the razor to my skin, I push harder and harder. 

Blood rushes everywhere and I gently wipe it up.

I'll sit there in my bedroom by myself. Nothing crosses my mind.

I'm an emotionless void of human flesh. I cannot feel anything.

The deep, red cuts have no pain. I do not feel it.

Magically, someone comes. 

Someone comes into my life and I feel saved. 

They care for me and I feel less numb.

I can feel everything now.

They grow roots into my heart and I feel hopefull.

I love them more than I could ever love myself. 

I stop smoking everything. I stop drinking. I stop popping pills. 

I become a model to society.

Then one day the fantasy crumbles. Everything is my fault. 

Fights happen every other hour. I'm too much of a burden for them. 

My anxiety creeps in to make situations worse. 

My depession tells me they do not love me. No one could ever love me. 

They haunt me telling me how useless I am. 

Insecurity shows as I put myself down constantly. That's all I can do. 

Eventually the fighting gets worse. 

"You're too ugly. You're too insecure. You're too depressed. You worry too much"

They tell me.

They'll stop hanging around me and talk to me less.

I know I've lost them already so I do not try.

Then the day comes when they break it off with me.

Then, the cycle starts all over. 

I see the exit to get out of the revolving door. The exit to sweet salvation. 

But, I never take the door out of my pain.

The pain is all I've known and I've become addicted.

If I can feel pain, I will; because pain never leaves and I'd rather feel it than nothing at all. 


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