Dear strangers who are reading this,
Depression is not a fashion trend; it's not a way to get your attention or in fact anyone else's attention. It is a feeling that on certain days you can't physically get out of your own bed. It is looking in the mirror and when your own reflection is not recognizable, you begin despising what is staring back at you, it is a feeling of sadness that is so overwhelming that you can't even force yourself to smile. Depression is pushing away the one you love the most, and you just want to give up. Depression is not a fashion trend, it is not romantic the way movies portray it.
Depression isn't a cute girl in a huge sweater that falls on her small shoulders, it is not a girl in a messy bun and no makeup. Depression is not a fashion statement. Depression is not messy and dirty, it's not smudged in mascara while you are crying your eyes out. But what it truly is greasy hair and old clothes, it is not caring if you look like a human or not. Depression takes away your ability to take care of yourself. You don't care if you are going to eat that day or not. It is me laying in my bed for hours curled up crying and trying to understand why I can't feel like a human being. Depression is consuming and draining, I don't have someone to kiss the pain away, and regardless if I even did have someone to do that, the pain from depression would not go away. The only thing that really grows is the amount of scars you have on your mental health; it's not being able to recognize your old self. It's not pretty or poetic; depression is horrible, jagged, puffy and reminds you of the never-ending pain that you have to cope with just for being alive.
There's nothing beautiful about the noticeable dark bags or the blank stare as you can't even look like you have any emotion. Depression is a silent little monster that constantly stays around you. Cigarette smoke won't create a beautiful fog that masks sadness—it is coughing your lungs out because you're slowly killing yourself with a stick of cancer that you willingly put into your own body. Depression isn't romantic; it's not poetic, and it's not easy to overcome and cope with. It's a monster that stays under your bed when you sleep, hovers over you when you are trying to concur the day and hides in your makeup when you cover up the baggy eyes and oily skin.
I am not a flower.
I am not a princess in search of my prince.
I am a person who is struggling with depression, and it's not fun. It's not cute.
Stop acting as if though having this monster is romantic, that it's beautiful and that it's OK to feel that way all the time.
Pease stop doing this to us; we just want to get ourselves some help.
Romanticizing depression is like romanticizing the worst possible outcome you can think off.
