You wanna know what it feels like? What it looks like? I wish I could describe it to you. But oh, then I'd be "too dramatic"
I wish you could see how it drags me down and lays on top of me with the weight of a concrete building. I wish you could feel the flames burning behind my eyes when you open your mouth and spit words on me. I wish you knew.
Oh yes, you know this demon, but he was different when you knew him.
Yeah, I'm laughing, you're right. But he's laughing too. I'm not in control anymore.
So I try to control things. The way I look. My time. I'm just a vessel.
Soon he gets bored, and tired, and hits me over the head repeatedly until I'm too exhausted to speak. So I sleep. To lose time. Hours of time.
But oh, I forgot, I'm just lazy.
You're supposed to be there for me, but I forgot that it's only when I'm okay. I'm too good to not be okay. There's no way you raised someone who ISN'T okay..
"You think you're smart! You think you're so much better than everyone! You're going to wind up alone. What are you depressed about? Maybe you should find a way to fix it. Oh my God! I know more about your demon than you do! I used to know him, before you. He must be the same and since he is the same and I overcame, so will you."
Thank you. As if I didn't already realize my weakness. My brokenness. But here I am, being attention seeking, and dramatic, and you're right, I should just "get over it".
"You don't sleep at night because you're lazy all day. You don't do anything."
"Get some friends."
"Your sister is a better person than you."
I know that.
"People who are ACTUALLY depressed don't post about it! They don't make jokes about it! They don't talk about it!"
Maybe they don't talk about it because their voices aren't heard.
My demon looks a lot like you. And no, he isn't you, and you aren't him, but God do you two look similar.
"Quit blaming your parents for who you are!"
You wanna know? What this feels like? What it looks like? So do I. It's a shape shifter. A sound, and a song, and a television commercial, and a glance out my window, and a fever, and an exhaustion, and an angry customer, and a change in tone, and a moment of silence, and a moment of chaos, and nothing, and everything, and all the time.
It's me. And I'm it. And I can't get rid of me. No matter how hard I try. So maybe I should just sleep forever.
