i don't think people understand what its like to have depression. what its like to rely on a blog as a complete escape. to wake up every day cursing yourself for waking up alive. for feeling hopeless, useless. fighting the urge every minute, every hour to blot out the pain with razors and drugs. to get down on your hands and knees and beg the nearest person to save you from this demon in your brain. to be called names and fight them off with a fake laugh. walking around, pretending that everything is fine and dandy and that you're as strong as everyone else thinks, when really you're falling deeper and deeper into a black hole, sinking and disappearing rapidly until nobody even notices you anymore.
I can’t picture someone thinking about me before they fall asleep, or telling their friends about me. I can’t picture anyone getting butterflies because I said hi to them, or even just smiled at them. I can’t picture someone smiling at the computer screen or their cell phones when we’re talking.
I mean like…Why would they even do that? I’m just me. Nothing extraordinary, or special.