maybe I'm just broken
I say to myself to the mirror on days like this.
On days like this, I can get up and brush my teeth. I take a long shower and even walk my dog. Sometimes I even can go to the beach, by myself, with a book as a company and no one would ever say I'm sad.
I can deal with my sadness pretty well, actually. I've been depressed for most of my life and there's no escaping it. I know, for a fact, that I won't ever be cured of these demons that haunt me every night. And even though I long for company on these days (because my own head is a terrible place to be), I make it on my own.
With a growing pain on my chest that won't ever go away.
Sometimes I think the depression is all I really have. Besides death, my depression is my only certainty. She never leaves me alone. She has my voice but twists it so much it sounds like a demon I used to believe lived under my bed when I was a kid.
With her gentle hands, she lays me down and pushes me until the floor breaks and I'm left completely alone, underground. My voice leaves my body and I can't cry for help.
That's what it feels like every day to wake up with depression.
Depression is a beautiful lady, with deep dark eyes, who will break your heart in a million pieces even if you didn't give it to her. She has a way of ripping it from your chest before you even realize it.
It may come from trauma. It may come from unfinished businesses you never dealt, that will come to the surface eventually. It may only come because she wants to, and you're left on your own to fight for yourself and your dreams even if you never had to do that.
She will kill you with a knife, slowly, leaving no scars as proof. No one will believe you when you say you fight a war every day, because nothing's bleeding. Your blood is still transporting oxygen to all of your body and doing whatever else it's supposed to do. You're still breathing and talking and walking and surviving.
To be honest, I might be exaggerating. There are days the lady herself won't show, and you won't even remember she was ever there in the first place. You get to smile for the first time in years, or even just days and hours, and she'll feel completely gone. Somehow, your chest isn't her home anymore and you can shout happily at the sun that you can finally appreciate it.
But on days like this
You'll look at yourself in the mirror and realize you're long gone. Once upon a time, you were a hopeful kid, with dreams and the wit to make them come true. Once upon a time.
Looking at your reflection, you realize you don't recognize whatever is there. It couldn't be me, could it?, you'll ask to the mirror and it won't answer. You know it anyway. You're now maybe a 20 or 30 or 40 or so on year-old who still don't know what you're supposed to do with your life and how to make yourself happy.
You'll probably think you should be happy by now.
But the voice… ah, the voice
The lady, she's sweet. And very loyal. She'll only go away if you fight her with everything you have and are, and even that might not be enough. She really doesn't want to leave. She's a parasite who feeds off of your happiness and energy until you have no reason to get up in the morning.
You'll know you're strong when you have the ability to get up anyway.
And today is that day. I was strong enough to leave my bed and even go out and hang out with friends. As soon as I got back home, everything seemed to fall apart. My whole spine felt paralyzed with the weight of the voices and the thoughts she implanted in my head for years and years.
You're not good enough.
You won't ever be happy.
And you know why?
Because you don't deserve it.
Happiness is for good people and you're too damaged to be one.
And how can I even say she's wrong? No one cared for me when I needed it and now I don't care for me too.
And, to be honest (again), I know I might feel better tomorrow. I'll have a fabulous sleep, maybe some sweet dreams, and this will all stay in the past.
However, it's stayed in the past so much it came for me. And now my entire life is the past and there's no path to a future. Not a good one, at least.
What is the point?
So I look at me in the reflection of the mirror and breathe out. My whole body is weak from this whole process and I can't wait to get in bed and maybe — hopefully - never get out of it.
But I know tomorrow will come. And the sun will probably come out, which will make me want to come out too. I've been inside this shell for too long and it's filled with darkness and sadness and I'm so tired of living only with these two. There must be some light somewhere, and maybe that's what makes me get up in the morning.
Maybe there are other Ladies and Gentlemen out there who will greet me in the morning and give me the strength I need to fight off Depression. Or maybe I don't need to fight Her, because she'll be calmer and I'll be used to her in a way I can manage when she tries to bother. And I'll be Okay. Probably never Completely Happy, but I can live with that.
I'm so used to no light and happiness at all. Even a small possibility of getting both must be worth this. Even if the path is challenging. Even if I don't believe I deserve it sometimes.
I know that tomorrow, I'll be fine. And I'll realize like I've done many times before, that I indeed am worthy of Happiness. Because I don't need to do or be anything else other than me to deserve It.
Because, maybe, nothing's ever really broken. There's always a way to fix things, even if it's a heart. Even if it's an entire life.
At least I hope I know that tomorrow. And that's a start.