Read This When You Feel So Incredibly Alone With Your Depression

Photo by Guilherme Stecanella on Unsplash

27 pills.

I count them twice. I then calculate how many I’d have to take in order to not wake up. The deeper I go down my depression the more I wonder why the hell I’m still here. The pills that are supposed to make me feel better can only work if I believe they do. I had stopped believing in their powers weeks ago but I don’t want to tell anyone that.

Every day I wake up and I think to myself, “Fuck.” I don’t want to wake up anymore and still be trapped in a mind that’s so sick it is literally calculating how many pills it would take to overdose. I don’t want to be that burden on my friends and family who even though they say I’m not draining them, I am. I can see it’s not only emotionally grueling, but it’s physically and mentally exhausting trying to convince someone they’re OK.

I never used to be this person. The one who counts the hours until they can be alone again. The one who does not want to have any conversations with anyone anymore. The one who doesn’t want to get her sad all over everyone else. Unfortunately, this is my cross to bear and explaining it to people who don’t get it becomes a task I no longer want to partake in.

I thought I was alone in my depression. I thought that no one else could understand exactly what I was going through until I…