an open letter to my depression.

hello old friend,

we meet again. last time you saw me i was 15, platinum blonde, had a boyfriend, and a laundry list full of self esteem issues; i’m surprised you even recognized me. i’m doing much better now. it’s not like you asked, but you couldn’t have known. right, old friend?

you couldn’t have known that i have built a life for myself. that i have friends who have taken me in as family. that for once in my 21 years of existing, i can finally say that i am proud of myself. but no, dear friend. you couldn’t have known that. because if you had, you wouldn’t have come creeping up my spine. marking your, what seems to be permanent, residence onto my thoughts, forcing me down to my knees in fear. no. you wouldn’t do that to me. right, kind friend?

you would never make me doubt every move i make and breath i take, wishing that it was my last. no. you couldn’t. you would never try to convince me that the only way to prove i am alive is by forcing myself to bleed. no. and i refuse to believe that you think that i am not. not strong. not brave. not enough. no. because i am. right, reassuring friend?

friend. friend! are you there? i am enough, right? friend!

wait. you’re not there, are you? this happened last time. you just left me. you came into my life and took all that i have. that hurts, lost friend. that you couldn’t even help clean up the mess you made. instead you left me and this bottle of zoloft to pick up the pieces of your destruction. why, careless friend?

was it to remind me that i have done this before, so i can do it again. or that you don’t need to be a 15 year old ball of teenage angst and confusion to feel the warmth of your destructive embrace. or was it simply to tell me that it is okay to relapse. that you can have your whole life together, but still slip up. and that’s okay. that with each time we meet, old friend, that it is not the end. it is simply a crossing of paths that reminds me of how far i have come, but how far i still need to go.

so with that, persistent friend, i will pick up the pieces. i will heal the wounds that cover my arms, heart, and soul. i will lean on my successes for support, take pride in my failures, and prove to myself, once again, that tomorrow is worth seeing.

sincerely,

your healing friend

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