She plasters on her bravest face.
A face so brave and joyful that no human would ever be able to see through her artificial shine. No person was able to truly peel back those artificial layers and see how truly broken she actually felt. The worst part is, she didn’t even mind. Burdening people with her demons and sorrow is not something that she felt necessary. Every time she had expressed the slightest bit of unhappiness, it would slingshot back a thousand times harder. It felt as though she wasnt allowed to be depressed. That it was unnatural to feel as suffocated and miserbale as she did. Family and friends expressing to her that they were nothing but open ears and a suitable shoulder to cry on. When it came time to actually needing that support though, they seemed to disappear. Expressing amounts of depressive feelings became mirrored as the desire for attention. However, in reality, all she had been doing was searching for a way out. An outlet in which she could feel sane for just a little while, and have someone there would would shine a positive light on her demons, muting them for just the smallest bit of time. Despite this, she never once blamed them. How could she? Nobody could ever put themselves in her exact position anyway. So whats the point in trying?
The source of her depression was not ever exclusively one reason.
When she cried, as often as it was, it was brutal. Every single breakdown becoming more painful than the last. She had become used to waking up in the morning with puffy eyes that were riddled with the stinging sensation of the prior night’s tears. Although she would begin crying about one reason, it would often quickly spiral into a tornado of toxicity. She was unable to pinpoint any positive aspect she had in her life. This leading to be one of the most frustrating factors for people she had surrounded herself with. People in her life that didn’t understand how much pain she was actually in. How could they? How could anyone? Every aspect of her life was flailing and there was no eliminating that feeling. Her chest withholding the feeling of constant pressure and anxiety for reasons even she sometimes could not locate. Constantly feeling as though everything she did in life was never good enough. Almost, but never enough was a common theme in her life.
ALMOST smart enough, ALMOST pretty enough, ALMOST body confident enough, ALMOST, but never quite there.
The space between almost and actuality is an excruciating position of mental limbo to be stuck in. Often times it wasn’t even as good as almost, it was never. That’s what depression did to her. She rode this depression roller coaster every day, with no available option to get off. As often as people have told and will continue to tell her this isn’t the case; that she was in fact good enough, she will never believe it. She has been hurt and betrayed one to many times to ever trust anything anyone says. She sees this as one of her biggest downfalls. However, at the same time, she lives with it. The depression overrides every aspect and fiber of her being and existence. The desire to change, the mindset to change, the need to change; is absolutely present. What is missing within her is the drive. Depression is the most brutal monster when it comes to dodging drive. Even just the thought over overcoming this beast and maintaining the drive to become someone who doesn’t pretend; is so painfully exhausting. All of these factors and thoughts are constantly running through her mind. There is never a time where she isn’t being bombarded by these disturbing and gruesome thoughts. But she lives with it. She lives with it because she doesn’t know how else to deal with it.
And I know what you’re thinking, suicide. That’s the answer. End it all, kill it all.
Trust me, she’s thought of this too. The multiple failed attempts only drove her depression further. Why wasn’t she able to do anything successfully? Not even being able to properly overdose was the ultimate rock bottom experience. The patheticness of not being able to do the simplest tactic to kill the demons. To this day she gags every night while taking her medicine. Every pill is a reminder of that helpless feeling of surrender and hopelessness on that chilled April evening. Every time she takes that little green pill, she is reminded of one of the most terrifying nights of her life. She hears the voices all over again telling her, “Keep going”, “What’s three more?” “It’s not like you have anything to live for anyways”. She was unable to stop even though consciously she knew she had to. Her tunnel vision and loss of presence was so incredibly intense and nothing she had ever experienced before. The feeling after stopping is the worst though. Coming to terms with what she just did and the realization was worse. Was it strength? Was in a successful attempt? Enough to end her pain and suffering? Or was it weakness? Did she ultimately cave into depression? Did she let depression almost take away her entire life? These are questions that she was never able to answer. She still doesn’t know. Depression won that night though, it always seemed to for her. However it did not win in her favor. She would be content with depression winning if it included her disappearing, forever. Unfortunately it just won that battle, and kept her in a torturous cycle of sadness and misery.
The war wasn’t over, it seemed to never be over. Her demons always seemed to sneak their way back into her twisted psyche. Her ways of expulsion only being the most destructive she’s ever known. It hurt, and it will continue to hurt her as long as she lives and continues to let the demons reside in her misery.