Hi guys! It’s been a while! I’m currently reviving my Medium blog to act as a complement to my new official blog. While going through my writing pieces on Medium, I found that I used to write a kind of ‘Depression’ series. These blog posts are now irrelevant to my content on that platform, but I didn’t want to just delete them, so I’ve decided to keep them here. Enjoy the collected writing pieces on my teenage depression!
The Only Time I Was Depressed
She had been depressed before, but she had never been Depressed. She had had her sad days, because life was made to have ups and downs, but she had never felt to be at a point outside of the graph, without a clue where to go next.
At that specific point, there was no beginning, no continuation, no end. She just was. And it felt like she would always be.
In her sleep, she was lost in a film of nightmares. When she was awake, she hid behind a curtain of tears. No, she did not always cry, but she always wanted to, and so her eyes.
She had no more dreams to aspire to, no more daily goal to motivate her. Because true depression comes only when life keeps throwing sh*t at you. No one did her any harm. She had no enemy, no unfinished business with anyone. She was loved and she loved.
Life is to blame, always. Its mischief often occurs at random, in a meaningless pattern, and sometimes, all at once.
She lost her appetite and she slept too much. She stayed at home often, but when she did meet people, she felt relieved but it was a relief filled with despair, because deep inside, it was her battle and her own.
What did she do to deserve this? Nothing. There is no such thing as fate. Coincidences do exist. It always makes no sense.
One night, after crying her eyes out, she decided to seek Help. She had tried everything and nothing worked. That was when she realised that she was Depressed. She was sick and she needed Help. The realization came as a surprise to her. There was no doubt.
Nevertheless, she was lucky; only a few days after her epiphany, she had to move out of town for a new job. The whole process was a fresh start to her. Travelling. Leaving. Meeting new faces, a new horizon.
It completely cured her.
However, not everyone is as fortunate. Be aware. Be kind.
On Depression, Again.
It’s 9:26 p.m. and I have done nothing productive today, except for doing my groceries and getting a haircut, although I’d admit that I see those impulsive activities of my morning as more of being escapism. Unless, binge watching the first season of Arrow actually makes me productive since I’m also a film student…
I woke up late, slept too much in fact, and barely ate throughout the day. I’ve been glancing at my literature readings from time to time but did nothing about them. I destroyed a half-done 1000-pieces puzzle for the lame excuse that I needed the paper I was keeping it on for a school club project. I fought back the sudden urge to buy useless products and clothes at the mall.
I thought I was over it. Now I’m scared. I know that things have been unstable lately in my life, in all areas of my life, but…
I remember the day I last wrote in my personal diary, a computerized diary that lasted me 8 years, and I remember the excitement and joy I felt on that day. I have not written in it since.
It’s been months ago. I didn’t know I was so bruised.
I know where I’m going. Soon, I’m going to be crazy, in every sense. I’ve always praised our education and all the knowledge we are able to acquire today, but I know too many things now, and there are too many things that I learnt that hurt me.
I often think about what Daisy said in The Great Gatsby, about how, in the end, the best thing to be in this world is a fool.
The Girl In The Rain
I hadn’t noticed her at first. I was on my way to meet a friend. Like many other students around, she was walking towards the main building of our school, probably to go grab some food at the cafeteria.
It was raining. However, she seemed like she was in no hurry to get inside. She was looking down, at her phone perhaps, something she was holding in her hand.
She walked past me as her feet touched the hard roofed pavement. I was right behind her when she suddenly halted. I almost bumped into her. Probably replying to a message, I thought. I stepped on my side and would have walked on if not for the fact that I noticed her shoulders were slightly trembling. She was still looking down. Suddenly, she covered her face with her free hand.
I believe she was crying.
I could not be sure though. As abruptly as her gesture had been, she started walking again, towards the school library. Her hand had fallen to her side and she was staring straight in front of her. I could not see her eyes.
She could have been on the verge of breaking down; I would never know. She could have borne all the deepest sorrows in the world; we would have never known.
If she had not been strong enough, who would have stopped to comfort her? If she had really been crying, who would have gone to her and tell her that it was okay to let her sadness flow, that it was okay not to be okay?
Back to Reality
I want to live, but I don’t want to live that way.
I want to cry, but I lost my tears a long time ago.
I found a dream, maybe, but I am not allowed to dream it.
I want to move, but I am paralyzed.
Why does it always seem so hard?
This is not a challenge, it’s a prison.
My wings are half-broken. Yet I still look up.
One day, I hope I happen.