A written piece: Depression

Waking up feels so horrible, I feel I cannot do it, it's hard to open my eyes and see in the darkness. Anorexia nervosa, anxiety, clinical depression, avoidant personality disorder you have ground me down, pushed me under the dirt of the earth and made me suffocate in my memories. I’ve spent years living in this hell, no not living, existing. That’s what this is, an existence. Nothing more. “I am done” are the three words I use the most these days, sad isn’t it? To be twenty one and so finished with life. To only feel okay when you’re slowly disappearing, the number on the scales getting lower and lower each day. To be so committed to death and yet so withdrawn from life. Crying in blood, silently screaming.

I look at the little girl in the photographs, the girl who wanted to be a ballet dancer and a nurse and I can't help but feel overwhelmed by guilt because that little spirit full of life became the woman with dull eyes and a hollow soul. That girl became the woman whose wrists sting in the bathtub, who found hugs in anorexia and kisses in razor blades. A woman so cold that she’s forgotten how to love. Cold and harsh, they call her a pessimist. She doesn’t understand ‘fun’, Christmas crackers and Birthday cake are trivial nonsense, punishment has become the only thing that makes sense, is it self-discipline, or maybe self-control? Or is it the total opposite? I’m not sure I know.  How sad and hopeless must one feel to only be able to fall asleep thinking of falling asleep forever? Death became the only comforting thought.

These days are hard you know? The world has lost all it’s colour, I see in black and grey, the beauty has gone, only darkness and rain. It is icy cold, like the world has lost warmth forever, it's become so cold it'd be impossible to thaw. I realise how desperately alone I am. Could you imagine waking up in the morning and realising that nobody and nothing would notice if you died? You are that unimportant, worthless and meaningless that you mean nothing, you are nothing.

The walls are closing in on me, there is less and less air to breathe and I feel so frightened. I have a hand on each wall either side of me and I’m using all my strength to keep them from closing in on me but I’m exhausted, I’m not sure I can hold them away on my own for much longer. I wonder how this will end, if I’ll give up and let the walls close in on me. Let my soul slip away as my eyes close for the last time. I asked other people to place a hand on one of the walls, to add to my strength and help me to stop the walls closing in, but nobody had a spare hand, maybe they were carrying too much already or perhaps they just had their hands in their pockets and I wasn’t worthy enough for them to take their hand out for a few minutes. I guess I’ll never know their reasons, but I know this much, I'm on my own.