My depression isn't real.

I am not depressed. I do not have depression.

I have good days. I have days when I smile and laugh. I have days when I don't cry once. I am perfectly fine. I am happy. I am not depressed.

I have friends. I go out and spend time with my friends. We have a good time. We smile and laugh. A lot.

My depression isn't real.

I look at myself in the mirror and smile. Sometimes I like the way I look. I feel pretty. I like the way I did my makeup or curled my hair. I look skinny in a certain pair of pants. Sometimes I feel good about myself.

I think about my future. I think about reaching my goals and having the career that I've been dreaming of for years right in front of me. I think about having a family and name my future children. I plan out where I want to live. Sometimes I even look at houses and picture how I'd decorate them.

Because my depression isn't real.

I have bad days.

I have days where I can't pull myself out of bed. I have days when everything thought that goes through my head is negative. I have days where the majority of my time is spent crying. I have days when I'm sad and I don't know why.

But my depression isn't real.

I have anxiety attacks. I shake and scream. I cry. I can't process anything in my head.

I have irrational fears. I worry about the future and things that I can't control. I stress about every little thing.

I hate myself. I hate myself more than I want to, but I can't help it. I look in the mirror and cry because I hate what I see. I hate my body. I hate my face. I hate my voice. I hate everything. I scream, and I cry, and I pretend to like myself, but I don't.

But it's not real.

I am numb to everything. I am numb to pain and to love. I am numb to happiness and to sadness. I cry, but why? I can't pull myself out of bed or hold a normal conversation. Or I can smile and laugh and pretend that everything is OK. But which is real? How do I really feel?

Because my depression isn't real.

I have to take medication to feel normal. I take medication to function like a person.

Sometimes I am happy, and sometimes I am excruciatingly sad,

but my depression isn't real.