Hey, Depression. I never know how to start these things. How are you? Yikes, sorry. Forget that. I know how you are. You’re not well. Like, that never-ending cloud hanging over Eeyore’s head. That’s how you are. Muted colors. Kind of like turning on a television screen and only seeing static.
We haven’t seen each other in a while and I can’t lie to you, it’s been nice. It felt like I was finally getting a clean break, you know? You’ve been such a constant for me. We’re always in this recycling relationship. Hot and cold. Off and on. You give and I take. Or I give and you take. And maybe it’s wrong, but I got used to having you around.
You know me in intimate ways that nobody else does. And that’s maybe depressing? Oh yikes, again. Sorry. Didn’t mean to use your name like that. I don’t know, it just feels like we’re standing together on this private island and I’m waving to ships that pass by. But they can’t see. No matter how hard I try to flap my arms and shout, they keep on sailing. But you’re there. You see me.
The weird thing about you being so clinical and chronic is that, even though I know you’ll come back, each time you leave I kind of think it’s our final goodbye. It’s the break up that’s going to seal the deal. I pack up the box of your things and throw it in the trash. I’m done, I think. We’re finally done!
But you always come crawling back. Sometimes it’s loud. It’s a piercing crash that lets me know – BAM – you’re here again, knocking at my door. But other times, it’s delicate. It’s surprisingly soft. You creep in unannounced. You do it so slowly, I don’t even realize it’s happening. Until one night, I realize you’re in bed with me. And I’m forced to wonder how long you’ve actually been there. How long have you been with me?
I know our issues run deep and it would be impossible to magically wish them away. There are reasons for you, both chemical and otherwise, that I’ve spent most of my life trying to figure out.
But you want the truth? I’m tired.
I’m so tired of you.
I’m tired of nights you take over and force me to push away the people I love. I’m tired of you telling me I’m wrong, or that I’m incapable, or worst, that I’m just a bunch of nothingness. People have this misconception that all you do is bring me sadness. But that’s not true. You bring me emptiness. You turn me into a shell and fuck, I’d rather have sadness.
I don’t want to keep doing this. I don’t want us anymore. I want you to lose my number. Delete it. Stop calling me. Stop showing up uninvited. Stop telling me I’m no good without you. Stop convincing me we’re meant to be, that we’re the only ones who actually understand each other.
I know I say this each time, but seriously, I don’t love you. And I know you certainly don’t love me.
So, I’m asking, can you just stop? Can you finally just let me be?