A Letter To Depression, My Oldest Friend
Yes, I know you’re still here. Creeping in my mind, feeding on my insecurities, celebrating my failures. You’re starting to get boring, honestly.
We’ve first met more than a decade ago. Heck, you’re my oldest friend. We’ve been through everything together, ever since you’ve first shown yourself in that school bathroom when I was twelve. Telling me saying “no” is for weaklings, when those boys assaulted me. Telling me exactly where to look for my grandmother’s blade to “let the blood out, along with my sorrow”. The blood was out, the sorrow remained.
You always give the worst advice. And I listen.
There is something hypnotizing about you. You know how to get to me. You know that I like to explore the depths of my awareness and that’s where you hide.
At that time, you held me for what, two years? Then I started doubting you. Remember, I found God, expanded my knowledge, developed my spirituality. A positive one.
I know that infuriated you. So, you captured me again in a moment of weakness, pulled me away from the good and showed me, this time with no pulling back, how horrifying the world is. How awful I am.
When I asked if there’s a meaning, you said no. When I asked what’s my purpose on this world, you asserted there's none. “You’re worthless”, you said.
That was when you got to my core. Keeping me alone in the bedroom, whispering that there’s no point in going out. Showing me even more brutal ways to harm myself, leaving me with these hideous scars I have to wear today. Convincing me not to tell anyone, because nobody cares.
I thought they will kill you, when I was hospitalized.
But you, you used the institution as a sign of your victory. And took control over me. Forcing me to say stupid things, to act psychotic, to hide handmade weapons against myself when you KNEW they will find them. And give me more pills, and give me more restrictions, and worse diagnoses, and confinement, and those eyes full of pity when they looked at me.
You thought you had me forever back then? You thought that everyone giving up on me will make me give up on myself too?
No way in hell.
I already tried to take my own life, I had nothing to lose.
Nevertheless, when I left the hospital and thrown my pills into the abyss of that disgusting public toilet, you still saw an opportunity to thrive in me. Only this time, I decided to fight you alone.
I defenseless, you energized with the darkness I was feeding you with for years.
And when I built my strength back, came your new trick. To hit me during winter, at the same time, every year. “I’ll only be here for a few months” you would say. Leaving me empty and even more alone after each season, making it harder every time to knock you out again.
Damn, you’re persistent.
You ruined everything. You ruined my feeling of self-worth, my charisma, my ability to love, my childhood curiousness, my dreaming nature, my potentials.
You chased away people from my life. You filled me with negativity because you knew that people will run away from the black hole before it consumes them.
Yet, I managed to pull myself out of every doomed scenario you cursed me with. And as much as you hate it, I’m still alive.
The reason why I’m writing you this letter is to ask you something. How do you feel now? How do you feel when there’s nothing left to empty? We’ve gone through everything together, you tried all your tricks. I know you have nothing new in your cards.
You can no longer defeat me.
Yeah, you can sway me off my path a little. Sure. Yes, you have built me towards your own image. Maybe I will never be "normal" again.
What you didn’t expect, I’m sure, is that despite all that, I learned to love myself. I know that’s your biggest weakness.
Now, it’s time for a same-level fight, you blood-sucking bully. I hope you’re ready, because I’m going to attack you will all I’ve got.
Until your next try, Depression,