I knew
the difference. I knew the difference between when I wanted to kill
myself and when I didn’t care if I died. There would be days when I would
give up, I’d crawl into bed, curl up, and just lie there. This wasn’t me
being depressed. I knew the difference. Being depressed is when you
cry, when you think about a knife to your throat, when you cut yourself, when
you wish everything would change, when you cry out for someone...
anyone... to come and tell you everything would be okay. But no one
was there. No one was ever there. That was being depressed.
This was depression. This was the unfeeling, the existence without
life. Curled up, hopeless, useless, on your bed. It wasn’t that you
were sad, don’t get that confused, it’s not when you want to die. It’s
when you don’t care what happens. You don’t care if someone shoots you or
kisses you. You are without emotion, without thoughts. Time passes
arbitrarily and life moves on without you. You don’t hear people talk
because you don’t exist anymore.
Sometimes,
just as I curled up and the life would begin to fade from my eyes, I would be
scared. Just for a second, a flicker of an instant in which I would worry
that this time I wouldn’t come back, this time I would never think again.
And then the fear is gone, I am gone, I am in an unstate. Alone,
without thought, not seeing, not breathing. But it never lasts long, or
it hasn’t yet anyways. Only an hour or two. And then I begin wake
up. It starts with tears. Tears that I don’t feel. Tears that
stream from my unblinking eyes and cover the bed I lay in. And still I
don’t feel them even as my face glistens with them and my pillow is drenched in
them. It starts with tears and then, if you are lucky, you fall asleep
and you wake up feeling okay. Okay. Just okay. Just barely
okay is a better way to describe it. If you aren’t lucky you begin to
wake up and your mind starts screaming at you. “You are a horrible
person. You are disgusting. You deserve to die. Your blood
would probably be cold you wretched creature. You disgust me, crying like
a little baby. No wonder she left, no wonder no one talks to you.
Makes me want to puke.” And you might just puke. You might
just rock back and forth and cry some more. You might hold a knife to
your throat. You might cut yourself. This was being depressed, the
most horrible and utmost stage of being depressed, but at least it is not
depression. At least you can feel the pain. At least you are alive
now, even if you wish you weren’t. Because if you can feel pain then you
can still feel happiness when it comes around. If it comes around.
If you can cry then you can laugh. Tomorrow you will wake up and it
could get better. At least you are not in depression, at least you have
woke from the void. But it this of course is the part you must work
hardest through. Depression requires no work. You have to just hope
you wake up. But once you are up you have to work to stay awake.
You have to work to not cut your wrists and not end the misery, work even
harder to not fall back into the nothingness.
I think
about so many ways of killing myself. My mind wanders to all of the happy
memories I had. All of the things I no longer have. All of the
laughter and happiness that was wrenched from me. And I imagine how all
of those horrible thoughts would go away if only I had a nail. A nail and
a hammer, straight through the temple. Maybe stabbing holes in my legs or
cut wounds in my arms will ease the thoughts. The pain will be too much
to ignore. But the thoughts are still there. They always come back.
Better to just end it. Gun to the head. Blade to the throat.
Pills. Pills are an easy way to go. But what if I wake up
after? Do I want to wake up? Oh god, I don’t know, I don’t know.
Where are you, God? Don’t you exist? How can I live like
this? And that is when depression will set in if you are not careful.
Because it doesn’t matter what you do or what you're depressed mind tells
you, the only way to feel better is to cope. You have to set aside the
pains and sufferings of the past. It will not be easy. Worst yet
you have to do it alone. It doesn’t matter what others tell you or how
others want to help you because if you don’t believe in the fact that things
can get better, that they will get better, then those others cannot help
you.
Take a
bullet to your head. Jump into traffic. Fall of a tall building.
Take the easy way out and you miss out on what could happen. You
miss all the good your life could become if only you believe. Believe
that life will get better if you keep living it. Believe that you can
make it better. You are strong. You are independent. Life
will get better because you will make it better. Nothing anyone says can
change that. Do not let yourself fall into the void or succumb to your
mind’s taunting. How many times have I been there? In that state of
unness? One hundred? Two hundred.... I will probably fall
into again. And if life will have me I will wake again. Hopefully
within a few hours. God, hopefully I won't fall forever. And
when I wake. When I wake and hold my knees to my chest, and rock and rock
and rock, back and forth, the tears streaming down my face. When I wake I
will be strong. I will believe.