You know it’s really funny that I used to think that only losers would spend lunch by themselves, but here I am, outside the cafeteria, sitting on a bench. Why? you might ask. It’s not because I’m friendless. I just… I don’t know. I prefer being alone than spending my time with people, pretending that I care what they’re talking about and, pretending I want to be there when I really don’t. And if they were being honest, they wouldn’t want me there in the first place.

My friends say they care. That they love me. But I don’t believe it. Not for one moment. If they really did, you know, care… none of this would’ve happened in the first place.




I just want to be by myself with my music. That’s the beautiful thing about music. It expresses how you feel, when you’re incapable of doing precisely that.

At this point in time, I don’t care who sees me lying on the bench with my headphones in my ears. Truth had once said that I’m so far down in my depression to the point where I’m not honest with myself or ones closest to me. She said that she feels like she doesn’t even know the real me. She said that she doesn’t think that she ever will.

I don’t think I ever will.


I’m not honest with the ones I hold closest to me? That’s where she’s wrong. I am honest. Awfully honest about my depression. Some people cut, others run away or sell their bodies. Do you know what I do? I deal with it. I own it. When people ask, when they don’t. I say it. Over and over again.

But she was right in a way because I don’t know what the truth is anymore. Reality for me is more like a collection of moments I’ve lived, dreams I’ve dreamed, fantasies I’ve created for myself and nightmares I have yet to wake up from.

I don’t know what this is. I’m not sure of how I came to be here and the thing is, it isn’t so bad anymore. It doesn’t feel like depression… it feels like me. It feels like I have become depression. Like it’s my identity. I no longer have a name, my face is no more. My voice is gone. I am simply depression.

And the thing about identity is it’s not something you can hide or run from. It isn’t escapable. Because it is who you are. It is what you are.

I don’t know what any of this means anymore… and truth be told, I don’t even care that it’s a bad thing.