Why I have trust issues: phan

Why I have trust issues: phan (1)

About four months away from my 'mile stone, you are now at the legal age to entice a girl, or boy, into your bedroom' birthday I was diagnosed with clinical depression and then at 16 I was rediagnosed with chronic depression.

I guess I should have seen it coming.

But I didn't.

You would think hours and hours of crying myself to sleep every night until there was no tears left would have given me an idea, but, alas, it did not.

The news hit me like a ton of bricks.

I guess years of Zachary and Callum's physical and verbal abuse finally got through.

But the fact that I had a testable, real, dangerous disorder just... scared me.

No longer could I brush it off as 'hormones' or 'normal teenager stuff'.

Whatever.

I should probably introduce myself, I'm Phil Lester and I have chronic depression and a whole heap of other things wrong with me. This is a diary I've been told to keep for my therapist, so she can moniter my progress or something. So this is my story, it's not happy, it's not short and it's not over yet. This is meant to console me, or something, so I take my anger and sadness out on paper not my wrists.

Whatever.

Beans on toast for dinner today with a fried egg dripping in oil.

I only ate it to make my parents happy, my mother doesn't like the idea of me starving myself so I did it just to humour her.

I feel a little bad, watching her well up in tears from the joy, then, as soon as they went to bed I vomited it all back up.

Good.

I gained two punds since leaving hospital last month and I hate it.

I feel like I'm stuck in a fat persons body when really people say I'm very skinny.

They don't see it though, they don't see what I see... what needs to be removed...

That's enough for today, good enough Miss Therapist?

I'll try to get some quality sleep because: 'Phillip, three hours sleep a night for a month with your work schedule isn't good for you, plus you don't exactly eat well enough to sustain yourself... you could really damage yourself, and with your GSCE exams coming up...'

They don't even care about me.

Just the money in their pockets.

Quick in, quick out and in the process they suck my parents wallets dry.

That's what this is.

Anyway, goodnight.

-Phil