I've been reading other people's blogs, and seen that I'm not the only student to be lacking in school hours for "illness" because I just can't find it in me to get out of bed. People I mention it to say it's a normal part of being a teenager, but it's gotten to the point where I'm crying because I don't want to face the world that day, and it's getting to be every day.
The worst thing is, I have the most amazing friends at college, and the most supportive, brilliant teachers. I don't get bullied, I don't hate studying (in fact I quite like it), and despite only a 61% attendance, I'm still getting As. So… that makes me feel worse for not wanting to face the world. There are people in situations so much worse than mine, who get up and go to work and face abusive husbands or fathers, who face famine, who face war, who face God knows what else is happening on this planet, yet I'm here, with a blackberry and a laptop and a flatscreen TV and nice clothes and a nice house, and I'm feeling sorry as hell for myself. Surely that isn't right.
But then, I start thinking like that, and I feel awful about it. I feel guilty. So… first it's this overwhelming urge to just do anything to not go out, to not have to do anything at all, and then it's this awful, awful guilt for being ungrateful. But that in't even it. I'm not ungrateful. I recognise that I'm pretty damn blessed. And I know that, in my life, the good outweighs the bad five fold.. yet, I still feel like I have a rock in my stomach, and I still spend half my time battling with tears, and I still just… can't imagine going on living. It's ridiculous. Seriously ridiculous.
And then, it's like… well no wonder the health service don't care about me. I'm being silly and selfish and whatever else I feel like calling myself that day. So… then I tell myself that I absolutely positively have to get out of bed for those people who are right now being raped or tortured or holding their dead child in their arms or whatever, and… that usually works.
Still though, I have to wonder… I know depression is common, but… how common is it for people like me, who, despite having a relatively bad childhood, have blossomed into a life which is actually worth living, to still not want to live it? And… how do they justify it to people who can't understand?
Speaking of which… I told a close friend in college about my depression on thursday… because I literally spent the whole day holding back tears… and she was quite nice about it, but didn't really know what to do. Bless her. I do love that girl, she's pretty awesome.
I didn't go into college on friday, though. Sore throat. No, really. But it wasn't bad enough to warrant a day off, really. I just didn't want to have to go through another day of pretending to be happy while my head's thinking of things I can't even reveal to you online people…
I did, however, pass my theory test, so yey… I guess.