I’m a person that no one listens to a person that no one sees. Every day I deal with problems that seem normal to everyone but me. I am unworthwhile as problems go- I really have it all together, totally capable in any way. No one can see me incapacitated by my own anxiety Immobilized by fear and stress hidden underneath a sheath of everyday. Medications are a nice band-aid to cover the spot of internal bleeding. It worked. But at least I can better achieve the glossy, high- quality fakeness that feeds everyone’s expectations. They made me president of a club. They made me captain of the team. They made me super-counselor at camp. They believed I could do it. I failed every one. And someone else stepped up cleaned up the mess I left behind. Somehow I fooled every one of them into thinking that I could do it. I’ve never had a job I’ve liked- or been able to keep. And I was really trying at the last one.

There have been many kilometres of petrol used up in silent crying, destination- “anywhere but here.” Impulse purchases- blades, clothes, bags, books, and twenty different bottles of shampoo. Screaming obscenities at people I love, building a firewall of hate for no reason. Insensible as it all is, I sit here, a borderline, this is my everyday.
Regretting my behavior. Dragging my feet through work each shift takes every ounce of energy I have.

For me, depression is a living, ever-changing creature that impacts each and every aspect of my life. I can not, no matter how I try, ever avoid depression and its grip on me. I don’t understand it and I can’t defeat it. I try to outwit it and live my life, but what I really spend my time doing is just existing…from hour to hour…day to day…year to year. I have no past because of depression. I look back over my life and I see nothing but emptiness, failure and loneliness. I look at the future and I see the same. There is no hope and though I try to remain positive, I know that I am kidding myself. There is no hope or salvation for me. I will not be one of the lucky who escape depression’s grip.

Each day is an ordeal, a battle to remain ‘normal’…a battle to remain on top of the water’s surface one more hour, one more day. I get up. I go to bed. In between, evidently, something happens…I may or may not remember–or care. It really doesn’t matter anymore.

I look at my life and I don’t care. I occasionally hope and dream, but I know that I can never be happy or reach my dreams. What is the point? Loneliness and despair will be my life companions. I need to stop my foolish dreaming.

I look at my life and wonder “why me?”. What have I done to deserve to be punished like this?

When I am at work, or in some situation where I’m expected to do something (or expect myself to do it), I feel unable to do it. Or unwilling. When you are depressed it is very difficult to tell the difference between “unwilling” and “unable”. I can’t face the work I have to do, or if I try it, I feel I am doing a bad job and stop.

When I am at home, during leisure time, when I’m not expected to do anything (except “have fun”) there is nothing I want to do. I try to think of things to do and nothing at all appeals to me. If it is within a couple of hours of bedtime, I just go to bed early. Sometimes I prefer to have work to do, because if the work is easy enough and I hit no obstacles, at least it keeps me busy.

Lack of enthusiasm for anything

-Inability to find joy in daily routines/simple things

-Feeling of doom; all we do is futile

-Not knowing what happiness is or how to find it

-Kind words of others seem trite/don’t believe them

-Lack of energy and will to act

-Annoyance at others expressing joy over mundane things

-Inflicting self-abuse to alter state of mind

-Feeling incapacity to love and unworthy of love

-Constant insecurity…wanting to change surroundings and people

-Letting relationships fall away; unplugging the telephone

-Living like a misanthropic hermit

-Always being the weirdo and outsider/longing for kindred spirits that don’t exist presently

-Thinking that at any moment all I’ve acquired will be taken from me

-A burden to society/just taking up space and wasting resources

-No one understands or tries to except those that are paid for their time and “professional sympathy”

-Feeling like I know the truth and everyone else lives in oblivion and ignorance

-My existence has no value to anyone; especially me.