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 *****. 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 *****. 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."