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Dear Depression,

Dear Depression,

You are heavy film across my eyes that makes them so easy to close.  I can’t sleep, but I battle to stay awake.  The medicine cabinet is full of things that say “may cause drowsiness” but my life is full of the fog I’m fighting to clear, while just trying to sleep one full night. I finally settle on half a pill, because the need to sleep outweighs the knowledge of the nightmares that a pharmaceutical drifting will cause.

I often can’t breathe, it’s easier to bury myself in my weighted blanket placed across my face. Then there is a reason I can explain to why I am fighting to inhale.  My belly can sometimes breathe but my lungs cannot.  My intestines are twisted in a knot so tight that I feel a catch when I breathe in and have very little to exhale. When I try to tell this to someone they look at me like I’ve spoken French to them so I laugh uncomfortably and mention how hot it’s been outside and comment on the how I hope Pumpkin Spice Lattes come out soon.  Depression, you make me weird to be around.

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A friend once described a feeling of “if someone touched me nicely I might cry,” this is you, depression, in a nutshell.  I go to my massages because I need to be able to breathe, but I fear to go because I fear I’m going to cry.

I want to be alone so badly, but around people that care as well.  But not a lot of people. And without any noise. If I could just be in a clear box that is quiet and dark, but that I could peek out of and see those who could reassure me that I’m not quite dead yet when I need to… that would be just great.

To imagine that one day we might part ways makes me wonder what I might be like without you.  To have a life free of days that I don’t hole up in my room needing to be void of any noise or people… what could that be like?  What would I be like without you?

I’d like to find out one day.

 

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