Depression

    I turned and saw her face. I rolled my eyes and snorted unbelievably. Those ‘sad little girl’ was not suited to her fake face at all. Looking so shocked and sad to what doctor just said earlier is a cheap act. The doctor just announced an issue about me being depressed that was the reason why I tried to slice my own throat last week. Little did the doctor know that the reason for my suicidal attempt is not depression. It was my own family.
    In this medical room, stood all my so-called family members. Acting like they care about my well-being. Everyone in this room was the cruelest person I ever be with. Not that I ever be with someone else. Patrick locked me up in a room to avoid any people reached out for me. I never talked to our neighbours, I never went to school. I just like some innocent little kid that never been out of the house in my entire life. Patrick said it was done to protect me from the outside world. He just tried to be a good father for me, but everyone in the house knows he was far from it. I never called him ‘Dad’ just like how I never call Debbie ‘Mom’. For me, ‘Dad’ and ‘Mom’ titles need to be earned and they did not earn that yet. I don’t have any need to treat them as parents when they didn’t act like one. In my point of view, they just a pair of person who brought me to this pathetic world.
    Do I have any siblings? Yes. In fact, I have nine of them. Do I felt like I have any siblings? No. Why? Because they never acted like one too. All they knew was to care about only themselves. They never cared about me, I bet they already forget about my existence by now due to the fact that I have been stuck in the hospital to go through some therapy for a week now. Doctors keep asked questions and I tired of them. They asked me some normal questions and I answered it as honest as I could, which not much. I did leave out some details about the abuse I received though. Not wanting them to be paranoid. After 7 days of Q&A sessions, they have decided to declare me as a depression victim. I wonder how they jump to that conclusion though. I don’t remember I gave away any details about me being depressed. I guessed it just one of those perks of their job.
    I didn’t completely decline off the idea about me being depressed. With all those abuses and sleepless nights, even I would bow down to myself if I’m not depressed. I can saw confusion written all over Patrick and Debbie faces. Maybe they wonder why I’m depressed and they never heard me cried all night. Well, what do they expected me to feel with all they have done to me? They want me to ride a pony along with the rainbow, throwing glitters and screams “Candies, candies. Cause I’m happies”? I would never have cried in front of those monsters and gave them the satisfaction of seeing me broke down.
    Depression is not when you were bawling your eyes out and screamed on the bathroom floor with your ruined mascara stained your red puffy face with shower on and wet your clothes. It’s called sad, not depressed. Depressed is when you lay on your bed and staring at your room ceiling at 2 in the morning and asking yourself why are you still here. Wondering the reason why you still breathing and heart still beating against your chest. And when you found none of the reason, your silence tears started to fall against your will. You did not know why you cried yet you feel the need to cry. You did not know why you hurt yourself yet need the pains to survive. Those pains make you feel alive; make you feel like you still have control toward yourself. The pains make you escaped the real world where you are worthless, good for nothing soulless body. It just you and pains against the world. And once the pains did not do their job, death does.