This site is like a sanctuary for me. Here I can shed this facade of happiness and speak my thoughts with very little fear of what others may think. I am unknown, distant and alone. The solitude that depression has created for me for so long is maintained. Here I can cry...
Life had a way of dictating who I will end up as. People stole my childhood away and made me feel guilty for whatever sin I was. I felt discarded because I couldn't fit society's standards. Perhaps, I was too passionate back then. I tried too hard to be liked by others by doing good things. I tried so hard because I always felt so alone. People I thought I knew only wanted to slit my throat to see me bleed out. It was the fun thing to do back then I suppose; tear others down for your own amusement. The damage wasn't ever seen so why should they care. Do I hate them or should I hate them? No... I don't, but I cannot forgive what had transpired already. Not one ever considered to look back and question and I'm left here in shambles. It didn't make me stronger as a person, instead, it destroyed the foundation and left a life struggling to keep it together. When people see and tell you that you're broken for so long, you begin to believe it.
The times that were truly devastating in life made things that much more difficult to overcome. When my best friend died when I was 8 or so left its mark on me, no one gave me encouragement that things will be alright. When I was raped at 10, no one was there to hold me and wipe the tears away for the two years it went on for... When I was beaten up because I'm Asian by a Hispanic racists gang at 11, I had already distanced myself from everyone including most of my friends and family. At 16, I gave up and O'd. I did research on how to do it and the lethal dosage needed. It worked and my heart stopped but I hadn't anticipated that the doctors would be able to revive me given the conditions. I was told I was lucky to be alive... I couldn't agree up to that point of my life nor can I still now. A continuation of turmoil and betrayals continued everytime I tried to mend the open wounds. If I had to describe what depression is like to those who never had to experienced it, I often say it's like picking up all the broken pieces of a mirror. Doing so, however, the shards will cut up your hands and dig in deep and each time you try to repair and piece the mirror whole again, you are bound to lose some fragments because it been crushed beyond recognition. All you are left is a mirror weakened as whole leaving who you reflect as distorted and mangled because of the obvious cracks.
It brings some ease that I can ramble on like this. Whether anyone reads this or comments on this doesn't matter, because this acts as a record for what has transpired from a human that was silent for so long. It's my legacy in a way I suppose... That's more than enough reason for me really in case I do something.
