Don’t tell Doc, but I wasn’t on my augmenter meds for a couple of weeks. I misplaced my set and didn’t have the money to replace it, so. Cue withdrawal and episodes.

Being unhealthy feels like being stuck in a trap. You know you gotta get outta there, but you have to get out to get yourself out. It’s terribly dark and lonely. Sometimes it feels like it’s constantly 3AM. Everything’s dark and quiet, and everyone is asleep or unreachable. I feel so, so tired but I can’t sleep. I feel like a bother so I wait it out on my own. But the clock never ticks past that tragic hour.

It only takes a day or two to forget what being happy and healthy feels like. Or maybe that just speaks to the level of sadness I’m in. I can name days, months, and events where I know I have been positive and upbeat, but I cannot for the life of me recall the feeling. It’s as if this darkness is all I know and all I’ve ever known.

Depression has been useful to me in many ways, moulding me to be kind and empathetic. But it has also been the biggest liar I’ve ever met. It tells me that happiness has never been genuine, that I’ve only ever fooled myself, and that I’ll never be truly happy, healthy or successful. The worst: that I’m all alone and that it doesn’t get better.

My eyes are withered, as if I’d been crying nonstop for hours. In reality, I can’t leak a single tear if I tried.

I’m having trouble writing this because I really want to give you a plot twist. I want to tell you — surprise, I got better and I just proved my depression wrong about my ending. But no, I feel like I got proven wrong about my ability to persist. I feel like all those years of “survival” have led me to this day where I finally break, and this time it really won’t get better. Every mundane thing is the attack that will finally get to me.