Nowhere

But I’m going nowhere.

It’s a daily challenge to convince myself that the depression is going away slowly or to tell myself that I’m doing better. Everyday I try to forget who I am or how I feel in hopes of being too numb to accept reality.

I didn’t change.

I’m still looking for temporary solutions to feel better and to put myself to sleep every night, I’m still depressed and I can’t even pretend that there’s any improvement, I’m still remembering how painful reality is and how I am a slave to my depression who decides to take sick leave by popping a pill or drinking tequila. They tell me to get closer to God and everything eventually works out but I already know that I’m a puppet and this is God’s plan. Why would I interfere with pain that I’m supposed to endure to test my faith? But the problem with faith is that sometimes you run out and your demons run wild, the demons tell you how much easier your life would be if you didn’t have a life at all, the demons, they say they’re here with you every night when you’re overthinking and every morning when your eyes haven’t yet closed, they tell you how the pain goes away when you go away. But we argue for hours trying to find some hope, hope to live or hope to die. They tell me how strong I am for making it this far and how I’m not gonna be a coward because I tried and it’s those moments where there’s a battle in my head and I don’t know if I wanna fight or just let them convince me how fucked up I really am.

I tried.

I tried being happy and enjoying the efforts of those around me yet the cloud of darkness, sadness and pain weighs heavier on my shoulder, my fake smile can’t even fight away the tears while I stare blankly with the picture of emptiness crowding up in my head, oh I’ve tried thinking I’ll be stronger but I let my 3am pain convince me that even that’s too hard, I tried enjoying life but I enjoy every 25 minutes of regret and temporary satisfaction that I give myself before I burst into tears again. I tried not being suicidal but sometimes I see other plans while shaving and taking pills.

And when it comes down to it, will I even make it for another two years? Or am I hanging on the edge of a mountain waiting to lose my grip, I dont know where I’m going but if I’m taking my depression with me, I’ll be lead nowhere.

It’s not a bad thing.

And you’re going to reach a place in your life where you’re at peace with being alone, when you’re completely okay being in your room watching Netflix the entire day, where you reply 6 hours later because you’re antisocial and you don’t mind anymore.

But the problem is finding out the true intentions of those around you, the problem is in friends disappointing you, the problem is when your family won’t even give you that peace you require.

What if people are just nice to you to score points with you? What if friends are only there out of sympathy? What if family treats you as if you’re not blood? You get so used to everyone making you feel like you’re no one that you’re at peace with being with no one.

And it’s not a bad thing, it’s not a bad thing when you become alone to avoid being left out, it’s not a bad thing when you stay in your room to avoid being shamed, it’s not a bad thing being alone because the wrong people made you feel alone when they were around, because they didn’t wanna acknowledge you, it’s not a bad thing being alone and avoiding drama, lies and all that comes with being with people who genuinely don’t fucking care.

I’m coloured with pain.

I remember sitting on the couch watching romance and planning out my future with my first love, I remember the innocence, the happiness, the hope, the faith, the love..

But it takes an hour for an argument to transpire, for him to call me a bitch, a whore but how? A virgin? He’s my first kiss, my first touch, how am I the names he calls me?

He thought I didn’t want sex because he thought I lied about being a virgin so he called me names, he punched, slapped, strangled and headed me.. he stopped when I bled.. when I cried.. when he came to his senses..

I had scars of blue, purple and sometimes black. Scars not deep enough to make me walk away, marks my mother asked about, but he loves me so he won’t do it again and if he did.. I’ll repeat, he loves me, he won’t do it again. He loves me and the swelling will go away, my skin will be clear again.. he loves me, he won’t lay his hand on me again.