Depressed

23 March 2022

  • I started cutting my wrist. I told myself that I am so deppresed
    2/16/22 2:44pm
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  • The immortal words of Papa Franku echoed in my head. “Sideways for attention, longways for results.” At first I sat there, confused over its meaning, but then I looked down at my wrist, and all doubt was cleared. Horizontal lines all over it. Would it be different this time?
    2/19/22 1:00pm
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  • I pulled my long sleeve back to my wrist, covering up my past attention-getters. It wasn’t worth it this time. Nothing seemed worth it. Whether it was deep depression or simply ennui, I couldn’t even tell anymore. I was so used to being down that it all seemed to melt together.
    2/19/22 11:05pm
  • The worst part was my arm tattoos were all colorful drawings of candy. They made everyone think my depression was a joke. And wearing long sleeves in Phoenix isn’t fun either.
    2/21/22 1:27am
  • What they didn’t know was that I had crippling depression. And on top of that I had osteoporosis. And I’m gay. I would sometimes lick my arms to taste the candy on them. Tastes a lot like blood actually. I finally decided to trek across the country to find the greatest therapist.
    3/23/22 1:33am

The End