O N E | Welcome To My Life

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{Pic of Olivia}

Song: 1-800-273-8255

Artist (s): Logic ft Alessia Cara

Sleep isn't just sleep anymore. It's an escape.


     Have you ever wondered what depression is like? It's like...you have no energy. You can't get out of bed. You can't even smile. And if you do it's a sad smile. It's when your eyes fill with tears and your throat gets tight. At night, you lay there and you can't do anything but think. Thoughts come to you...'what am I doing wrong?' and 'why am I even here?'. Depression is like a black room with no door. All you have is your thoughts, no light, no people and no place to escape. You're alone and you know that no one can save you.

Depression is like drowning...but you see everyone around you still breathing.

People think depression is about being sad. They think it's just when you 'feel down'. It's not. It's the darkness that slowly creeps over you and fills you. It drains all your emotions. It takes everything from you, and leaves you feeling hollow and numb. It's not sadness; it's not anger, its hopelessness. Imagine waking up and there being no colour. Walking outside and feeling no wind. Eating a meal and tasting nothing. Holding someone and feeling completely alone at the same time. When you're depressed, it's not a bad mood. It's numb, empty, hollowness that seems to never leave. It's feeling alone in a room full of people. It's a feeling that never leaves and you feel like there's no hope left.

But then there are times where I feel everything. Reality comes crashing in and it's too much to take, so I break. And that's when I get the attacks. Depression is when you feel nothing. Anxiety is when you feel everything. And when you have both, it's just hell. And when you do it's when you begin to do what I do.

I give myself scars. No. They're not 'just scars'. They're the demons I fought at 3am. They're my insecurities, my deepest fears and my lonely nights. They're the insults I have received and the emotions I can't contain. They're a part of me and who I have become. What they made me become.

I'm losing myself more and more every fucking day and I can do nothing about it.


     4:30 am

It's the same cycle. The same shit I go through during the day. The same sleepless nights and then it's on repeat.

I sighed continuing to stare at my bedroom ceiling, like I had been doing for the past three hours. Doing nothing. Thinking nothing. Feeling nothing. Just waiting. Waiting to start the day. The day I didn't want to start. It was so much easier to lay here. I didn't want to see people. I didn't want to go outside. I just wanted...I don't know what I wanted.

     7:00 am

I lifted my sheets off my body, but they suddenly weighed so much. I sat up ignoring the aching protest of my body. I snapped my eyes shut trying to dull the throbbing pain of my ribs.

Getting beat up it's. . .it's a bit like being in a car crash. The adrenaline, and the force of the hits, is like flying through the air. You feel like you can't control your limbs, and sometimes even like you are looking down on your own body, but with each fresh strike, you come back to the body with the pain. The adrenaline can make you feel acutely conscious of your own body, each punch or kick, you feel like you can sense each individual cell and blood vessel bruising or bursting, each nerve ending blasting out electric shocks and chemical responses. You can hear and feel your heart beating in your ears, and your vision becomes tunneled. You see the face of your attacker as though you're viewing it through a telescope. They say after a while you get used to the pain. You don't.

I waited another five seconds before walking out of my bedroom and to the bathroom. You see I'm not privileged enough to have an en-suite. I'm lucky enough to have the single mattress that I do. It's old and dirty, but I'm not complaining. It's better than nothing. Apart from that single item, my tiny room in the attic is bare. The walls were a sickly pale colour and the floor boards are cracked.

I had a shower as fast as I possibly could to avoid unwanted interactions. I didn't have the strength to get through it after last night. I never do but some days I'm not lucky enough. Walking out the shower, I brushed my teeth throwing on the only hoodie I had, which was two sizes too big - when I first bought it, it fit perfectly - and a pair of worn out jeans. I walked back to my room throwing on my old sneakers and grabbing my school bag running out of the house as fast as possible.

My school was a five minute walk from my house, so I would always walk it. I didn't really have a choice. I would push myself against the wall of the pavement with my head down, keeping myself out of the way of others. When I saw the school gates I hid myself in my hoodie more. When I used to see these gates in the past, I would find myself fighting off dread and fear. Now I felt nothing.

I made my way to my locker leaving my bag inside just taking the books I needed for the first few lessons. Instead of waiting around for the bell, I just went straight to my designated classroom. I didn't have any friends to catch up with. I took my allocated seat burying myself behind my books.

This is my life. I hope you enjoy the ride.


 The topics discussed in this story are sensitive, therefore if you are someone who is easily triggered, then I advise you to not read this book.




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