When I first learned of my depression I was already seeing a counselor for my ADHD. I think what brought them to this conclusion was that I had suicidal thoughts and my behavior wasn’t exactly… good. They figured I’d take a “Spa Week” of sorts when we originally found out. At least this is what I interpreted it as. Turns out they meant to send me to a Mental Institute.

Of course mental institute was too nice. It was more or less Crazy People Daycare. The nurse’s could give less of a s***. The counselors were asshole’s and honestly they just left us there to be watched over for a week, I mean I knew kids that had been there for months. Some for years. My parents and I both knew this wasn’t going to help so they pulled me out of there. Now it was only there to hold me at times when I was suicidal and I needed to be kept under close watch.

I honestly think most people don’t understand the true concept of depression. Imagine you are in a large dark swamp. You take one step and immediately a voice yells at you about an insecurity, mistake, or flaw. Take another step and they yell again. This continues for a while the voice slowly changing from a random stranger to, a family member or friend, to your own voice telling you how terrible you are. Each step also makes you sink deeper into the dark recesses of your mind, your mistakes and problems slowly enveloping your thoughts until it’s all you think about. That is what depression feels like, at least that’s what it’s like to me. Of course being in high school during this doesn’t help. Everybody's a critic here. Everything you do under a microscope. Of course people will tell you to ‘Ignore them.’ or that ‘They don’t matter’ or some other silly reassurance. They’re right but, what if your worst critic was you? You know all your faults and everything you’ve ever done wrong. So while the others are bad but, anything they say about you is multiplied and repeated to yourself in your mind.

When it get’s really bad things seem hopeless. Your entire day is consumed with the thought’s of depression and suicide and how terrible you are and how many people hate you, and how your smell is your main description and how nobody will ever love you or the fact that you are a worthless piece of garbage that should’ve hung yourself those three years ago but were too scared to do it. How you just lie in bed and sleep all day contributing nothing to society because everything you do, even the things you think you’re good at, are just plain stupid, that you are a worthless spec of dust on another worthless spec of dust floating in the endless vacuum of space. That everything written here on this computer will never amount to a single thing. Ignored by society for it’s ridiculous point of view and seen as too scary as it makes you think of how small you really are. But that is beside the point.

All I know is I survived. Somehow through all the stuff I had to deal with and somehow came out of it. Not exactly came out on top but, just got through it. trudged on through my short span of existence. Mulling over material and silly pointless things like love, opinions, society, and the essence of life itself. None of that matters. In the long run we all turn to dust. Getting forgotten or remembered by a society that probably won’t last the next decade. Either way I still write this. Still live. Maybe based on instinct or just that I’m too scared to join the void yet. Either way, I am still alive. Not that it matters anyways.