Depression

Every day I wake up without a plan, without a routine. I drift through the day, hour by hour, unable to see what lies beyond the next few minutes. There are things I should be doing - in the back of my mind, I know this - but they all seem unimportant, as if they belong to someone else. Yet when someone asks me to do something, I'll do it right away. Pleasing other people, you see, is my priority. And there are seven billion people on the planet, so it'll be a long time before I get around to pleasing myself.

Every day I remember how things used to be, and wonder when it went wrong. I look out of the window and imagine what it might feel like to be unafraid to go outside on my own. I hear parties going on in the houses around me and try to remember, unsuccessfully, the last gathering I attended at which I didn't feel frightened or claustrophobic. I see people getting on with their lives and smiling at each other, and I envy them. I am a drain on all of them, soaking up their hard-earned taxes, and I feel useless and guilty by turns.

Every day ends with the thought that I've wasted yet another one. The light goes out and I lie awake in bed, staring into the dark and willing sleep to come. Most nights it does, but never easily. I used to be scared to sleep without a light on, but lately being alone in the dark seems to be the only thing I get right about my day.

Some days I forget myself entirely. I forget to eat and I forget to sleep. My hair goes unbrushed and my toes are cold all day because I forget to wear socks. My roommates have conversations with me, and I forget them the instant we stop talking. I forget to answer questions. I forget to attend appointments. Worst of all, I forget to take my meds.

Some days I feel close to okay. Items on my to-do lists get checked off. I pay the bills without panicking. I can walk to the shop across the street or the pharmacy round the corner alone and with a smile on my face. My memory starts working, and living my life doesn't seem so difficult after all.

Some days I cannot face people at all. I do not pick up the telephone or answer the door to visitors or log into social networks. I dare not even look out of the window for fear of someone making eye contact with me. I close the blinds and draw the curtains and stay inside where I know it's safe.

Some days I stay in bed and cry all day for no reason.

Some days my head is filled with silence like cold water, and I want nothing more than to die and let everyone else be happy without me to ruin it for them.

I remember how it was to feel happy, to feel normal, but I can no longer summon up these feelings. I used to know what life was and to enjoy it whilst I could. Now, my existence seems like a slow, protracted death. There is only myself for company, and I do not like myself very much at all.