display | more...
celexa, prozac, zoloft. everyone i know seems to be on one of these. or should be. my best friend, or who used to be my best friend, is offically fucked up. self-declared, of course. she's taking the pills. they've won. they don't do shit. she still cries herself to sleep at night. she still cuts herself.

she cuts herself. she draws lines on her wrists with a razor. she's not trying to die, she only wants the physical pain to numb her sadness. she's sad. and we don't know why.

both of my parents have been on antidepressants at some point in the past five years. they say that your teenage years are the best ones of your life. that's just something old people say. if they're right, i'd might as well kill myself now. my parents have been happily divorced for some time, but that's not why they let the pills win.

it's times like this i wish i could cry. i've been the shoulder, the one who listened, the one who comforted for far too long. some doctors say that depression is caused by chemical imbalances. what's wrong with me is not in my brain. it's been caused by my fucking environment..

on my 18th birthday, in my first year of university, my mother suggested maybe i get on some sort of pills. the pills will always win. within that week, there was an ad in the school newspaper. it was like a sign. they were doing a study on some new drugs. i could get them for free. if i was depressed enough.
i took the test. my denial kicked in. i told her that yeah, i had the symptoms, but i did not tell her how severe they actually were. i didn't qualify for the study. i was only moderately depressed. she told me that i should really seek help. but that i wasn't depressed enough. i was only moderately depressed.

that's the closest i've ever come to seeking help. i'm too scared to do anything else. i've never been to a doctor. i'm fucking terrified of everything. the only thing i can do is ride the bus. it's familiar. whenever i see people i know, i hide behind corners, i pretend to be asleep. anything, if only to avoid talking to them. i wanted to get a tattoo. i couldn't even go into the building.

i'd kill myself, but i'm too scared to do that either. meanwhile, i listen to my best friend talk about cutting herself, and wanting to increase her dosage. she's let the drugs win. they always do. i listen to my mother talk about crying in rush hour traffic, about having a nervous breakdown. i listen to my brother talk about not seeing the point of still living. of hating everything. i listen, i absorb it all, and it's destroying me.

ignorance is bliss i shit you not.