Depression. That's the one thing that no one seems to understand about me. It's weird, I always seem to feel like a fake version of me, a faking counterfeit. And no one understands. They don't know how hard it is to even get out of bed everyday, and let alone get a job and go to school? No. I can't do that. I can't even look at myself in my mirror without thinking "Too fat, too ugly."
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I sit in my basement, messing around with my keyboard my mom got me for Christmas. It was stupid. I was a basketball player, why couldn't she buy me a basketball or a hoop, or something.
I felt bad for being mad at her, so I tried to learn it myself. I had walked to a local music shop, and had bought a piano book.
It wasn't as hard as it seemed. And I feel like I'm pretty good at it.
I could easily play it with both of my hands, which I thought I couldn't do. But I proved myself wrong.
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"Goodnight mom." I said. I just wanted to say goodnight, so I could say goodbye to my depression. Sleeping is one of the few ways I could escape from it.
"Are you sure you wanna go to bed? It's only 8." She asked.
"Yeah, and I already took my sleeping pills." I replied. My sleeping pills didn't really work, but it's good enough.
I walked up the stairs to my room, and closed the door behind me. I glanced over to my dresser, contemplating getting out my razor.
That was another way of escaping my depression. It wasn't good. But I was desperate.
I decided not to. My mom was probably going to check on me in a few minutes. It was a stupid idea anyways, it would only make things worse if my mom found out.
I laid in bed, getting out my sketch book. I'm not a really good artist, but I like expressing how I feel in art, whether it be music, sketches, or even writing.
I drew a sloppy sketch of a thing I call blurryface. I had been figuring out a name of this thing that I had known for a while now. Blurryface is a "person" that is made of all my insecurities. I named him blurryface because he doesn't exactly have a face, he's just an evil twin of myself who wants me dead. And he's full of my depression, anxiety, and a bunch of other problems. Everyone has a blurryface. And sometimes he takes over.
I like to draw blurryface as a tall, slender guy who has a black face, and red eyes.
I finally finished, and shut off my light and went to bed. A few minutes later I heard my door creek open. I felt my moms soft hand run through my hair.
"Goodnight Ty, I love you." She said and then left closing the door.