You Are Here Because Your Story Isn’t Over — Don’t Let Depression Win

Sophie Oatman
Sophie Oatman

It’s when you’re looking out the window and seeing a world that you’re not a part of. You have everything clearly laid out in front of you and yet, you see nothing. People are walking by laughing and smiling, but all you see are vague shapes, all you feel is the breeze of their presence as they move by you, you’re not really seeing them, and they’re not really seeing you.

It’s when you wake up another morning to try and climb a mountain without a rope. Every muscle you move feels like the weight of the universe is pressing down on you, trapping you to the ground, crushing your lungs, so each time you try and take a small step or even move your hand to reach for a glass of water feels like you’re wrestling with the air.

The beauty within you is replaced with something ugly, something so unsettling that you have no idea who you are anymore. At one point, you used to love taking pictures of yourself, telling yourself that you looked great and that your friends weren’t lying when they called you beautiful because you could see it too.

Not anymore. Now, you avoid your own reflection, you wouldn’t dare take a peek. Who could love you when you hate yourself? You can’t stand to look at your eyes, the shape of your mouth because you keep telling yourself why would anyone want you when there is so much better?

Sometimes, the tears come out of nowhere for no reason. They come at night when you have your hands pressed against your chest to calm your racing heart from escaping your lungs. They remind you of everyone who has ever hurt you, abandoned you and never fought for you. They remind you of everyone who forgot about you.

All the nerves in your body twitch and stiffen trying to push the tears away but somehow, it only takes one drop to make your entire body dissolve like ashes. Only the heat of the tears give you some warmth but the fire in your heart burnt out.

You’ve never cried before, especially no matter how hard you wanted to cry like this in the past but your mind used to be strong then, it used to have control over your body, your heart, and your soul but now, not only has your mind lost control of your tears, but you also lost control of yourself.

There are moments when the tears feel good as if letting all the water out cleansed you of your fears, your worries and left you dry and empty to paint and fill the canvas with a new beginning. It feels like someone came down and lifted the universe off your shoulders. But little did you know, it was only lifted to be hung by a thin string, only moments before it gets dropped right back to where it was again.

But at other times, you wish you would rather be in hell. Because it makes no sense to cry this way when you have everything going for you. Nothing is bringing you down anymore. There is no reason to dig a knife through your own heart and wish you were rather dead. The thought of not being in the world keeps you awake at night. It makes you wonder if anyone will notice if you’re gone and if they did, would they cry for your death as hard as you have cried to live for your life?

Would your family be relieved from the burden of you instead of constantly wondering what they could be doing wrong to make you not want to speak to them, to always hide in your room so you won’t have to be near them? You pushed them away because being close to them hurts you. The same way being close to anyone at all hurts you. It hurts you because you don’t feel like you belong.

Despite how many laughs, jokes, and stories are shared, you will always feel like your body is going through the motions like a dancer who dances but doesn’t feel the music. Like a singer who sings but doesn’t hear the song.

Sometimes, it’s only memories that seem to keep coming back no matter how hard or deep you throw them into the sea. You have tried to throw your old self into the same sea but even dead bodies resurface at some point. And no matter how hard you try, that old version of you, the one you tried to bury into the pit, always finds its way back on to the Earth.

You’re not sure if there is actually something wrong with you because suddenly, you feel great. And whatever happened last night or the other day before was all in your head. You were over-thinking it. You’re lonely. You’re stressed. And this will all go away soon.

But it doesn’t. Over time you realize the truth; you are alone. No one will answer. No one tries to take two seconds out of their day to ask you how you are. You’re sick of being the only one who ever wants to care, who ever wants to love and who ever wants to be loved.

So you stop reaching out, too. You become more isolated than ever while continuously telling yourself that you’re okay. Better days are ahead. Yet, you’re not sure how far ahead those days are. And how long you can keep living this way for a day that may never come.

You’re tired of pretending to laugh when nothing makes you happy. You’re tired of pretending to smile so nobody asks you why you’re not smiling. You’re drained off energy but you walk with your chin high when all eyes are on you but immediately face the ground when no one is looking.

And that’s when the thoughts come back. Is there any point in waking up to one more day? Is there an end to this journey? Should I free myself right now?

But something always stops you. What if tomorrow was going to be better? What if tomorrow I meet the love of my life? What if tomorrow, all of this was going to go away?

Because if you’re still on this earth, that means your story is not over.

Don’t close the book because of this one long terrible chapter. Just like the possibilities that keep you from killing yourself, stories are meant to be filled with surprises.

Don’t decide the finale of your own story because it’s already been written, and the only way you will know how it was already so much better, is if you read until the end. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

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