i have depression.
it's a statement. no one told me so, i did not consult with a doctor about it. i just know. call me self - diagnosed if you want to. i don't mind much.
of course, i am aware that self - diagnose isn't valid proof of it and that many people with my "symptoms" are completely fine - no mental illness, nothing. i am also very much aware that i have self - diagnosed myself with depression i've already set off some people to babble about me being a liar, a drama queen and an attention whore. well, i have nothing against those statements, i even agree with them, but i would still enjoy my comments staying clean.
but i know i'm depressed, which might sound a bit stupid. after all, i'm no more than an angsty teenager with a terrible lack of sleep. might be that i'm actually fine. or going mad. or depressed.
i don't think that depression is a part of me. it's more like something that happened to me, something strange and alien - that's how i can more or less tell. i can also tell by the constant pain of living that kinda just poked it's small angry head out one day and started nagging me. and the absolutely terrifying existential crisis, but that sounds a bit funny coming from a fat and lazy fifteen-year-old.
but here i am. a child lost between genders, honestly believing that they've got depression. with a sprinkle of anxiety and other issues, of cour
ESTÁS LEYENDO
depression.
De Todoa child's personal experience with depression, anxiety, insomnia and other disorders. non-fiction. personal. what can i say... i'm a romantic fool with some depressing tea that just needs to be spilled.
