Excerpt: Through the Eyes of Depression

May 2nd, 2010



He told me this is what happens when you’re single, about a girlfriend ago, but that isn’t true. This is what happens when you trust a player.This is what happens when you’re a fool and don’t listen to your friends. This is what happens when you open up your heart. This is what happens when you give it all away.

         I told him everything. I told him I had trouble trusting boys because of what they did to me. I told him I liked him more than any other boy I’ve ever known. I told him I loved him. He knew I cried the first time, but he didn’t know I cut the second time. He didn’t know how I cherished those moments when our lips connected. He didn’t know how it ripped me apart as he held her hand.

         He didn’t know how hard it was to hold my composure. He didn’t know the moments I spent curled up in my room, wishing the nightmare was over, wishing I didn’t exist. Wishing he hadn’t waltzed in and stolen everything I worked so hard to protect.

         Now I stare at the scars on my wrists, feeling the ache in my heart, longing to be released. I took a test for depression and it said I needed to contact a doctor because I was in danger of hurting myself. It’s too late for that. It’s too late to keep my heart in one piece. Yes, it’s pieced back together with super glue and a dash of sugar, but it will never be the same. My friends know something is wrong, but I refuse to speak of it. This journal is my escape. It’s my sanctuary, my home, my refuge. I can be honest. I can speak of my pain, my torment. Who next will be his, I wonder? A different best friend? He already stole one. He leaves a trail of broken hearts in his wake. I will never write his name in this journal, because I know I will collapse. I might lose my mind altogether.

         Pain. That’s all I feel. Pain. Is this all because I’m pretty? That’s the worst curse one could hope to obtain. Nobody knows I’m depressed. Nobody knows of my nightmares. Nobody knows of the sleepless nights I’ve spent. How can I tell everybody that cares about me of the thoughts of suicide that run through my head, the wishes that I’d never been born. I cling to the hope that someday I’ll make it through, someday he’ll just be a face I can’t put a name to, but that’s in vain. I will always remember him, always look at the scars and remember the pain, the torment. I will never forget.

         ~Dahlia