There are nights when it all comes crashing down and I am not able to breathe anymore.
There are nights where all the scars on my body are not sufficient enough and I need to inflict more to be numb, to suffer.
There are nights when I cry violently for 10 straight minutes and then just shut up and return back to the dinner table like nothing has happened.
There are nights where my demons lurk so deep in my head I can’t pull them out so I sit on the floor sobbing till my eyes go red and I can’t do this anymore.
There are nights when all the therapy in the world couldn’t heal me.
And those are the nights when I need you by my side to tell me it’s going to be alright.
You make it better. Please come and console me, I really need you this unfortunate night.
For those of you who think that “depressed” is equivalent to being “sad,” my intent here is to show you just how wrong you are. If you fail an exam, you’re sad. If someone doesn’t call you back after a first date, you’re SAD. When you have to physically resist the urge to throw yourself in front of a moving vehicle or swallow an entire bottle of pills, you are depressed. Depression is a chemical imbalance in the brain. When a depressed person says, “I want to die.” or “I want to kill myself.” WE GENUINELY DO, we mean it wholeheartedly. Our brains tell us that taking our lives is a logical way to end our suffering. Depression swallows you whole, it sucks the life right out of you. It alienates you from the entire world around you. You feel empty, hollow and alone. Your existence seems meaningless. It’s as if everyone else on Earth has the script to the play of life while you walk around, hoping to catch on to some of the lines and fall in line with everyone else. For those of you who romanticize mental illness, tell me this. What’s romantic about me screaming out and smashing at walls for someone to save me, because I can’t breathe during a panic attack? What’s ROMANTIC about a significant other leaving because they don’t have the patience to deal with a flat mood and negativity? Fuck any of you who fake mental disorders for attention. I do everything in my power to HIDE mine. I speak for every mentally ill person when I say that we don’t want attention, all we want is to be NORMAL, full functioning human beings. People who mock or disregard our REAL struggle are the reason why society doesn’t take us seriously. Depression is a silent demon, an overwhelming wave of absolute dread. It is a debilitating, life ruining BATTLE that I would not wish on my very worst enemy. Never treat it as anything less.
Like, he wakes up in the morning, probably on Todd’s sofa, all rumpled and uncomfortable from sleeping there. And he finds that someone put a blanket on him last night, which was nice of them, and he smiles a little. Pulls it around his shoulders. And then Todd emerges from the kitchen, because this is the one time he’s ever been up before Dirk (because it had been a tough case they just solved, so he figured Dirk could use the rest) and Todd makes him a cup of tea. And they sit and talk and Dirk’s all wrapped up in his blanket with his tea and he has this smile on his face, and says,
“Thanks Todd.” In that little way he does.
I never understood how important closure is until I didn’t get it. Thinking about someone every day but having little to no contact with them is draining mentally and sometimes, even physically. At the end of the day knowing where you stand or knowing where it ended with a friend, significant other or even a family member is so important. I guess sometimes I should take my own advice.