Trigger warning: The following discusses depression and the emotions that come with it. If you struggle with depression, please take note.

I'm getting bad again.

You can tell in the way that I don't laugh as much anymore. You can tell because I'm not sleeping and the bags under my eyes are getting bigger. You can tell by the way I'm going back to my therapist, begging her to make me feel something. You can tell by the way that I cry whenever Ian leaves me to go home, begging him on my knees to stay so I don't have to face this alone.

I'm getting bad again.

There is an ever-growing list of things for me to do that seems to suffocate me, wrapping around my neck and pushing on my trachea. I try to do one thing but suddenly all of the others come screaming for attention. I'm counting down the minutes until my next breakdown. I'm counting down the things that make me beg for someone to come save me.

I'm getting bad again.

And my brain is like an old TV stuck on a channel with no signal, static screaming into the void while my head tries to make room for the emotions I feel. But alas, it can't, because my head is stuffed with cotton, every centimeter is taken up by bad thoughts and poor decisions and voices from middle school telling me that I'm not loved, that I'm a waste of space, that I need to go, my time is up.

I'm getting bad again.

Every little sound agitates me more and more to the point where I need silence to function. My manager yells at me because I have little patience to deal with those who test it and how dare I have emotion. I'm exhausted but I can't sleep, spending hours a day on my feet at a job that makes me feel worthless. They say it's just a stepping stone to a better life, but what if I never get there?

I'm getting bad again.

My compassion is being used up by everyone around me. I don't have any left to spare for myself. Why can't I just be a normal girl who feels sad but can be made happy? Why does the static take over what I know I should feel? I want to feel anything, even pain, but I've been clean for over a year, and I can't break that streak... can I?

I'm getting bad again.

And so I throw my stethoscope around my neck to try to force my brain to believe that something good is happening. I look myself in the eye in the mirror and tell myself that I will be a nurse. My reflection laughs back at me. How can you take care of others when you can't even take care of yourself?

I'm getting bad again.

And it's all your fault. You expect me to be an emotionless machine, putting aside the things that I feel for the well fare of others. As if showing emotion to other humans would be such a nuisance, as if taking care of one another isn't something we are hardwired to do. I beg you for help and you tell me to shut up and fix it myself. I beat my head against the wall and you scold me for leaving skin prints on the paint. You see my tears and you blame it all on me. It's all your fault.

I'm getting bad again.

You bite the hand that feeds. You lie. You steal. You cheat. You ruin everyone in your path, like a hurricane that has gained too much momentum. You ruin my family. You ruin me. I don't sleep because I have to listen to make sure you don't steal again. You are the worst possible example for the one you helped make. You steal from me. You steal from them. You have never once worked for what is yours.

I'm getting bad again.

And I can't stop.

I'm getting bad again.