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Erin Preston May 2015
They don’t understand, every time we speak, when they tell me to snap out, it’s all in your head, just be happy, it’s like a punch to my stomach. Let me explain to them, that it’s as if I am drowning and they are standing a matter of feet away yelling at me to just learn how to swim, as if it were easy. Do they even see what is really happening to me?

He tells me about how he feels, that he understands and tries to explain it, thinking he knows me, that he knows even an ounce of the pain I feel or what my life is like. He explains to me what depression is and proceeds to say that it’ll go away. It is as if he is describing the water as I drown in it, sinking to the bottom.

She says she’s just like me, that she knows exactly how I feel, that her life is worse than mine when it’s not. She just wants attention; she wants people to feel bad for her when I am here in actual pain, not pretend, real. She is pretending to drown beside me while holding onto a life preserver and I am attached to an anchor. I feel like my world is shattering and she just wants that boy to give her sympathy and attention.

I don’t understand myself. I don’t understand why I am always sad, why I feel numb, why I can’t get my life together, why I’m not who I used to be, why I am me. I wish I understood why I can’t make phone calls, why people make me nervous, why my anxiety is taking over my life while holding hands with depression who is eating me alive. They are pulling me down into the murky depths, filling my lungs with water, and no help in sight.

Don’t ask me what my problem is, don’t tell me this is normal, don’t say it’ll all go away. Don’t make me leave the house or go out with people, do not tell me I’m a freak. I’m sorry but I can’t explain it and you don’t understand what drowning feels like.

— The End —