Everyone around me became aware of my depression at the start of this year – it was something I had struggled with for a long time prior – and all of my biggest fears came true. My mother cried and everything was s***** but it was okay, people knew and I didn’t have to hide how f****** s*** i felt, the monotonous day to day of school just became white noise and people seemed caring of me because they were made aware of my mental illness – I’m not saying that these people didn’t truly care for me, only that they had no knowledge of it before it became public knowledge. It’s July now and we’re 7 months in and I’m no where closer to being rid of my demons, yet the people around me spout to me about how proud they are of me, of how I came from such a dark place and now i seem to finally be becoming the person they once knew and the only thing I can do is lie. I keep saying how good i feel, how happy I am, how fulfilled I feel – when in reality I’m just another depressive a****** who is falling back into his self destructive behaviors. I feel like f****** s***, because no matter what I say, no matter what I do, this weight on my shoulders has just gotten heavier and heavier. Some days I catch myself watching the trains, and wondering how many people have had the same thoughts as me, on this same platform. How many people have pulled themselves to pieces by these tracks? and the only thing stopping me is the fact that I’ve built myself a prison made from my own claims of being better, of being more than what I used to be. I really f****** hate myself. I’m sorry this was so long. No one is going to read it all anyway.
