Depression: Chapter One

The Long Day Begins

Like most days I stirred from my sleep and then gave up. That was as good as the day would get. But it was ok if I was feeling down because I don't have a job anymore, no one to moan at me to smile while I place food in front of the rich and unimpressive. Now the day was mine. Mine to look for other jobs to pay my bills, all mine. It was wonderful how no one affected me, not my landlord who needed rent or my friends past birthday still unmarked with my unpurchased gift.

I stepped into the shower after another 2 hours in bed, a nice breakfast of biscuits and Weetabix, then whatever the fuck I wanted. I could laugh out loud and run through the house like they did in movies when they were free. But I didn't, instead I hit my head against the wall a couple of times and sunk to my knees, tears pleading for inspiration for me to get an answer. And there I stayed, but you can't cry forever plus your back hurts after a while so it's kind of stupid to stay there. Instead I slump to the living room, where the TV resides. But I am restless and furious, about what I did not know. Now I run, upstairs, to my room, onto the bed. My fit has begun. I struggle with every breath, willing myself not to scream, because what if the neighbours hear, they'll start talking, then everyone will think I'm crazy. Then my mother, what will they think of her, her with the beauty and compassion, the Queen Bee. Oh but she's not. She is what we call a wall flower, waiting in desperation for the bees to come to her, but it's ok if they don't because she wouldn't want to make a fuss. You see Bees are more important than flowers, I'm aware you could argue against it easily but it's my day today. When will Mother come home? I stop my tantrum to lay and think. When I think of her and stay still, I can always smell her perfume her soft clothes and warm cuddles from when I was a girl. I can smell her perfume sometimes when she sits the other end of the sofa or when she stands next to me during a picture.

On these days I find my comforts in the past, not in the futureless future. This is peaceful, and sad and lonely. I had spent so much of my childhood alone, by choice of course. I didn't like other people or children or anything. I was the warrior alone in her quest for....I have yet to think of that.