When
you asked me if I wanted to hang out always, I am somehow always occupied with
things; whether it’s work or driving my mum around. Yes, they were partially
true, but deep down it was because I was battling within myself to gather my energy
to do things. I can’t remember the last time my depression and anxiety weren’t
dictating what I was able to do and when. My depression tells me that I’m
worthless and that I can’t do anything right.
“I’m just tired”, those words
has been used after and again every week because I don’t want to talk about
this. I don’t even understand myself, and nobody goes around walking with
depression telling the world they’re sad. Depression
isn’t just feeling sad. For a large number of people, myself included, it
has become a way of life. Before I even manage to get myself out of bed, I’ve
already thought up different things that could and probably will go wrong that
day.
But
I’ve to hide it in me, because I don’t want sympathy. I do not want people to
feel sorry for me; I do not want to spread the virus around because I know how
darkness is. Just like Robin Williams
said, “I think the saddest people always try their hardest to make people happy
because they know what it’s like to feel absolutely worthless and they don’t
want anyone else to feel like that”.