Hi, it’s me again.

I feel I should say that I don’t mean to bother you, but you never seem to warn me before you come barreling into my life

It’s Tuesday, and its 2:36 p.m., and I’m just sort of wondering where you went. Not that I want you to come back. Truthfully it was a pleasant surprise to wake up this afternoon to find you not lying beside me. And yes, I did just wake up. You exhaust me! I slept through my entire morning. Four alarms couldn’t pull me from my sleep. I missed that important job interview this morning that I told you about and this is all because you kept me up so late last night complaining about, well, everything. You love to fill my head with bad thoughts before you finally let me go to sleep somewhere between 3:30 a.m. and 5 a.m.

Everything is such an ordeal with you! I usually wake up as early as I can to start my day but every time I think I have the strength to get up, you pull me back down into my sheets. Hours of this. Just fighting for motivation to start my day. And instead I tell my friends I'm lazy as a sort of excuse for sleeping in. Look at you, you've turned me into a liar.

Getting ready with you around is impossible. You follow me like a shadow, absolutely stuck to me. And you’re always in the way! I have to shove past you just to get to the bathroom. Truthfully, sometimes that’s enough to tire me out. I try brushing my teeth but you just keep turning my head in the direction of the scale in the corner. I could’ve sworn I threw that out yesterday. You must’ve put it back while I was sleeping…

I know I’m not overweight, but when I step on that scale you step on with me and dear God you weigh me down. Maybe I shouldn’t eat today in hopes that I’ll starve you to death and chase you away.

Yes, this is the kind of mentality you've given me.

At this point, I just want to leave this bathroom but you have "daily tips" to give me. I stand in the mirror patiently as you poke and prod at every flaw you can find. From my freckles that taint my face to my dimples that ruin my back to my thighs that are still too close together down to my feet that are apparently too big. There are pieces of me I used to not think was possible to be self conscious about. That is, until you came along and brought them to my attention.

Your insults carry on throughout the morning: "Be better, be smarter Jackie. No time to rest, there's always more to fix with you." I just nod and dip my eyes. The worst part of it all is that there is nothing I can do to shut you out. I have a rather tough skin but these comments can't be shaken. I can close my eyes until I see stars and press my hands over my ears with all my strength, but you’re talking in my head. How do you avoid that? Someone teach me. How do you get away from yourself? You don't.

I don’t argue with you. I don’t have the energy. And this is all only the morning. In mere minutes, you completely turn me against myself and just like that I become my biggest enemy.

I have had to live with this embodiment of negativity all my life. I wasn’t officially diagnosed with you until I was 9 years old, however, you haunt my earliest memories. You're in all my baby pictures. All my family photos. Every birthday and holiday. There you are. By my side.

Yes, it wasn’t until I was 9 that I was taught that it isn’t normal to hate yourself. Who knew?

I was just a kid and here I was being funneled into room after room where doctors would rapid fire bombard me with questions I didn’t even completely know how to answer. Am I happy? I still don’t know how to answer that one.

In simple terms, doctors loved me. I remember I was 12 when I watched my mom storm out on a doctor because he tried to explain that “no one manifests this strong of a depression at this young of an age!” He was ecstatic.

I was interesting. I was different than other kids my age. It didn’t take me long to figure that one out.

Often times I wonder why you chose me. I wonder why you wanted to live out your days in my life. More importantly, why didn’t I get a say in the matter? Why have I been stuck in this relationship for as long as I can remember. You pop in and out whenever you like. There isn’t ever any warning when you come and I spend the entirety of your presence praying you'll leave. You know me inside and out, better than anyone in this world, and that is exactly why I am terrified of you.

Often I wonder what life would have been without you. Single handedly, you turned my life into school counselor visits, mandated therapists, doctors in lab coats, clipboards and pens and pocket protectors, hours upon hours of sessions, pills of all different colors and shapes and sizes. This would have been a different article if all of these wastes of time actually did their job of taking you away from me. Locking you up somewhere where you could never reach me again. But that’s all they are, wastes of time. Instead you laugh in my face as they prescribe stronger and stronger ammunition to fight this war. It doesn't even phase you. You must think you’re invincible.

To be frank there isn’t a pill strong enough in this world to fix the damage you’ve already done. I wish people would realize that already.

Over the years I have watched you completely destroy my self-confidence, haunt even the nicest of my dreams, and ruin every last one of my relationships. It’s taken me years of focus and self-discipline just to rebuild that confidence and every time you poke your nose back into my life I’m terrified it’ll all be broken down again. You must think it’s hysterical, how easily you affect me.

I used to not want people to know about you because of what you are. Elementary school and I would bring the bruises and scars of your abuse to show and tell but I never wanted to tell. Middle school, I had perfected the fake smile and the false appearance of happiness, I learned how to exclaim that I was fine without a single falter in my voice. High school and I even practiced getting in and out of emergency rooms without anyone’s notice.

I used to hide you because of the opinions based off of false notions everyone seems to have in regards to what it means to live with depression. It meant I was a kind of freak. At least, it meant that I was different. It meant that people had to walk on thin ice around me. It meant that I had to be protected. Why would I want that? Why would I want to be babied? I wanted to be told I was strong. I wanted to be cheered on down the road not sat down in hopes I wouldn't fall. So with those common beliefs floating about, of course I used to hide you.

But I’d rather everyone see you now for what you really are. You’re a challenge. A challenge I overcome every time I open my eyes in the morning. Every time I step out of bed and say good morning to my mother. You have given me nothing but Hell. But I have given you absolutely nothing but fight.

Nineteen years and you still haven’t brought me down. You’ve gotten eerily close. There have been times in my life where I truthfully did not know what would happen next. But everyone has their bad days. They don't make you weak. Don’t ever confuse your bad days as days of weakness. Those are just the days that you're struggling the most. Those are the days you're fighting the hardest. That's something to be proud of. Not ashamed.

I know now that you will never leave my side, my good friend Depression. No matter how many pills they shove down my throat, I'll wake up with you beside me. I know now that forever you will be my dance partner of sorts. I know now that you make every waking second of my life seem like a battle with myself. I have to muster the strength in order to decide to push on instead of give in. I know that every day you are in my life is another day I have to be a little stronger than I was before.

But I’m game.

Today is Tuesday. It is 2:36 p.m. And today, I choose to live.