Today my mother asked me if I was depressed. She proceeded to explain to me that she was worried because I never left my room and I just looked sad all the time. As she was explaining to me her reasoning, I thought about the way I've been feeling. How it felt as if everyday I was walking on quicksand. How it was getting harder and harder for me not to cry. How I would be constantly fighting an internal battle.
"Stay in bed, darling. Stay in bed."
"No I can't I have school today"
"Don't eat that. You're not worthy enough to eat"
"But I'm hungry I haven't eaten in 6 hours"
"Don't call your friends they don't care and they all hate you anyways"
"But I'm lonely"
I am constantly screaming at myself.
I am constantly fighting a battle that I feel hopeless in.
It's getting harder and harder to breathe everyday and it sucks.
I hate it. I hate it. I hate it.
Pretending has become a habit of mine.
I don't enjoy lying to myself and others.
Every once in a while I tend to break into my parents liquor drawer because I like the feeling I get when I sip vodka.
It makes me feel light and airy, and for just a couple of hours, it makes me forget how much I hate myself.
I don't feel time passing by anymore.
I don't know the difference between night and day because everything is just a big blur.
I've lost all feelings and emotions except sadness.
"Are you depressed?" My mother asks me.
"No."
(b.c.)