Late at night, I woke up by the sound of of a loud blaring honk of a car that quickly drove past the street outside. The first thing I thought was that the car had hitten a person or collided with a lamp post so I stood straight right up and checked the windows. Alert, my senses were all keen to any subtle disturbances. But all I had seen were a couple of people and some stray cat wandering right below the light of a lamp post. I sighed of relief and of irritation. That jerk driver must have problems or issues.
I tried to regain my sleep but I had no luck with it. The thought that tomorrow would be my first day of being a legitimate college student made me awake and anxious. It scares me. My head keeps asking me questions like: What am I going to wear? What if people would hate the clothes I choose or what if they hate my whole body, my whole face? What if I go to a wrong class or wrong room? What if I talked to a stranger but just be ignored? I couldn't afford to think any of these questions anymore and so I screamed angrily in my head. Everytime this happens, I always shout to the void mentally to silence the other voices in my head.
I looked for my phone to check the time and provide me some light. 2:43 a.m. it says on the clock. I began to walk blindly around the darkness to look for my medicine on my cabinet. When I finally groped the bottle of the anti-depressant pills, I popped one in on my mouth and swallowed painfully. Then, I went to back to my bed and caressed the scars on my wrist. These are the scars I would never be proud of.
When I was in highschool, I thought that cutting yourself in the wrists were only for "emo"'s or for those teenagers whose desperate for attention. But all of it changed when I. myself, learned the deep meaning of depression. Depression- I hate that word. In great lengths, depression is different from sadness. Sadness is the feeling someone gets if they've recently experienced something unfortunate, something that disappointed them. Depression on the other hand, is a lot more deeper, a lot more darker. Depression is a condition where someone loses themselves to negativity. For me, whenever I'm depressed, whenever it visits my mind, I feel like a detachable piece of something big. Every single happy memory I have is deprived from me until all I can think of are the bad things. Depression drowns me and I can't breathe. It swallows me whole until I feel ashamed of myself for no reason. In worse times, the happy memories I have is turned into dark and unforgiving ones that is enough for me to think that there is something wrong with me and all I can do to fix it is completely detaching myself to the world, to life itself. And sometimes I wish to trade bodies with someone that has terminal illness so that my body wouldn't be wasted and they could live their life while I can peacefully deteriorate in the oblivion. That's a silly thing to say but at least that's the noblest thing I can do for someone.
Thank God, I managed to get help after I attempted to flush out the life in my body. That was a year ago, the time I got this scar that I would never be proud of, not in a million years. Right now, with the help of my medications and of course, dad, the battle with myself, the battle with depression got a little easier for me. The anti-depressant pill I took should have sedative effect on me soon but I took the time to check on Leslie if she's still awake. We went to sleep after we finished sorting her stuffs and talking about our lives. I feel much more comfortable around her. She's very nice and talkative which was a very good thing for me. Of course, she's sound asleep, I can see her silhouette with her chest rhythmically moving up and down, breathing calmly. The room was completely quiet except for a faint sound of music that I could hear from the outside. I think it was the same tune I heard before Jasper barged in. The music sounded so serene and tranquil that I decided to listen for it for a while. And then, I went back to bed and finally rest again.