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Entry #1

14/10/14

Permalink 09:51:21 am, by just.another.girl Email , 712 words   English (GB) latin1
Categories: just_another_girl

"How was your day?"

The dreaded question for those of us suffering together with depression. I say that I am fine, only to spare the onslaught of meaningless platitudes that would follow if I gave any other answer, when in reality every day I can feel myself fading away. Yes dear reader, I know it sounds dramatic and cliché, but those of you in a similar situation will know exactly what I speak of.

I wake each morning, ready to close my eyes again and turn my back to the world. I have a mental agenda in those meagre minutes that the snooze button allows, which consists predominantly of listing as many reasons I have to actually live. But I will find myself questioning those reasons many times throughout the day, and by the time I crawl back into the sanctuary that is my bed, my brain has already diminished the worth of each and every one of them.

Today I felt the bitter pang of isolation more than ever. Let's just say that my best friend is quite mercurial, he switches almost every day. Some days he is friendly and chatty, practically all over me - he has a bit of a crush on me, see. But then there are the other days, days like today where he shuts me out. No, not everybody, just me in particular. He rebuffs my touch, he scoffs at what I say, as if he is analysing my words just to point out the fault in what I say, he deliberately chooses not to walk home with me, instead keeping a few steps ahead as if to keep him in my mind, torturing me. Yes, I do realise it sounds as though I am a rather desperate girlfriend, but I assure you, our relationship is platonic. What you must understand, dear reader, is that he is the only person who knows the depths of my every day struggles and so without him to help me get through every day, the isolation suffocates me.

Suddenly, I find that my mask begins to slip in spite of myself. Only the observant begin to notice that I am not my usual vivid self (which is all a carefully constructed, not to mention exhausting act) and that is when the dreaded question springs out of nowhere. "Are you okay, Monica?" You feel that knot in your chest, your heart beats faster as if willing you to let the dam burst and let your worries pour from your mouth uncontrollably, but it is with great pain that you restrain yourself, feeling the tears prickling at the back of your eyes as you try to force a smile on your face as you feed them the obvious lie that sates them. You know as well as they do, that they don't want to hear your problems any more than you want to accept defeat and say them aloud.

Arriving home from school, the weather reflects my grey mood and I fled to the privacy of my bedroom, deciding that I shan't leave for the rest of the night because I don't want to face the inquisition that my family is sure to initiate. "You've changed." They will say. "Something must've happened." would be the obvious conclusion, logical even. But depression isn't logical and there is still no reason for your silent suffering and so you do the thing that your body hates you for; you suck it up and continue to carry your burden without even a single word to anybody else.

And so, dear readers, I admire each and every one of you that persists in their silent grief. I want you to know that it takes great strength to see all of these people around you and yet continue to say nothing. I offer myself as a friend should you find yourself in the situation that you want to speak out, but not just to anybody, but to someone who understands. Please know that you are not alone, as I will try to remind myself as I wake tomorrow morning and remind myself of the reasons.

"Peter Broderick - Floating, Sinking" - Is my song of the day, if any of you share my passion for sad music.

Until next time, dear reader.

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