She is 13. Depression visits often. She wraps herself in a gray blanket like a cocoon, sitting in a dark corner. Her eyes staring off into space, unable to sleep.
“What are you sad about?” Depression asks.
“I don’t even know,” says the girl, tears starting to drip down her face.
Her pale skin. She is scared and doesn’t know it, she doesn’t know why.
People tell her…
“Be positive. Put on a smile.”
“Try harder to be happy.”
Nobody asks why she is sad. Nobody asks what happened. What drove her to be so depressed. Why she wears long sleeves everyday now. Why she sits quietly in the back of the class. Why she barely talks anymore. Why she has no appetite anymore. Why she hides in her room everyday with the windows covered. Why she talks to herself, mumbling under her breath.
Maybe that’s whats causing it. Maybe that is whats causing the pain she is going through. The fact that nobody really does care. Nobody is really there for her. Nobody wants her around.
Or… maybe she is just doing this to herself. Maybe she can choose to be happy, no. Maybe she is just pretending, no. Maybe she is begging for attention, no. Well then, maybe she’s just crazy.
But that’s just it. She is. She is crazy. Her depression has taken over her mind. Over her actions. Over her thoughts. Over her. She isn’t herself anymore. She is someone else. She is trapped, in a never-ending nightmare. Her depression.