Depressed• phan

1%

It all started when I was 17. It was the year I was diagnosed with depression. I already knew I had it. There was just this, little thing, in the back of my head reminding me that I was useless, so I figured that's what it was. Depression. Most people don't understand it. I, myself, didn't understand it before I had it. I thought it was something, someone chose to be. I thought it was just a person who always looked on the bad side of things and always wore black. I thought it was someone looking for attention. I thought it was someone being over dramatic about a break-up. But, no, that's not what it is at all. Depression is the feeling of alone. Depression is like, being in a dark room, and no matter where you turn you can't see the exit. You think your worthless. You don't under stand why your alive. For some people, they cope by cutting their wrists, and thighs. These aren't the only way you can self harm though, you can carry a rubber band on your wrist and snap it, repeatedly. You can dig your nails into your skin. You can do whatever helps you "cope". For some people this actually helps them. I don't understand how it helps them, but then again I've never been that type of person to harm themselves with blades, knives, or sharp objects. I take a rubber band, and an occasional beating from a bully a school. But, I'm used to it.