It feels as though I'm laying under a blanket of metal, immobilizing me from getting up.
Some nights I have to convince myself to inhale again because it's like my lungs are fighting me to not to.
Most nights I stare at the ceiling, dry sobs that never leave my throat.
It's been non-stop for the past two, maybe three years.
It's a battle inside my mind to be alive.
I had a friend who committed suicide a few months ago, and every comment that she was a coward ripped through me and I bleed to this day from the wounds on my soul.
I don't think suicide victims are cowards. In the same way we don't consider a patient who died from cancer a coward. Two diseases. Same outcome.
I know a boy who should see a psychiatrist but because of society, I'm sure I'll see a Facebook post about his "unexpected" suicide. I'm sure they will call him a coward, saying he wasn't strong enough.
But here's the thing. Have you ever had the stomach flu?
Felt so yucky you couldn't get out of bed and it felt like hell?
That's what depression is. Every minute. Every hour. Every day.
Sometimes we get remission periods where we think, "this is it, I'm finally free of it."
But it comes back. It always comes back. Like that embarrassing memory that you wish your family would forget. They don't mention it for a while, but then there it is again. Coming out of their mouths like a waterfall.
Why are we depressed? Why don't we want to live?
There's no one answer. Every depression is different. Every trigger is different. And no, it's not our fault, no it's not our parents faults, or our friends, or society.
It's our brains. Our brains are wired to not get seratonin like everyone else. Just like, your brain might not understand math like others, or English, or whatever.
It's. Not. Our. Fault.
Stop shaming us. Stop making us feel worse that we do. It's not fair. It's not right.
It's not just you.
It's not just me.
We're in this together.
Forever.