Depression

Depression. It steals, lies, and scars you. It steals your confidence in yourself, your joy, and your voice. It’s lies and tells you how ugly you are, how worthless you are, and how alone you are. It scars you when you find the only way to relieve your pain is to harm yourself, and when you think you are so fat that you eat nothing, or even when you find comfort in food to the point that you can’t look at yourself anymore.
I have been stolen, lied to, and scarred by depression. Nearly two years later, and I still bear the scars, still believe the lies, and continue to be stolen from. I know that people say that the depression is lying to me, but they have never heard the truth in what it tells me. They don’t know how many times it’s lies have spoken so loudly that I have tried to take my own life. They don’t know what it is like.

At times the depression becomes only a whisper, and I begin to see what I can really do. I see that I actually do have a voice and I use it. I even begin to see that I’m not ugly and wear clothes that make me feel good. I even laugh and it is sometimes at nothing, but just to laugh.

But the depression seems to plant seeds in the scars it leaves. When they begin to grow, the voice gets louder and the cycle begins again. I seem to be in a never ending loop that is hopeless to get out of. One that nobody can help me out of.

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