I Tried (Depression Story)

I can feel the happiness and anxiety in my chest. My body wants me to throw it up, but I don’t want to. I want to keep the feelings inside of me. I don’t want the good feelings to flee with the bad ones coming out. That’s how I know I’m still in control. I can fix it though. I can shake it all away. I can close my eyes and shake my head and feel the uneasiness of it all travel to my head and then to my hair until it gets to the tips where it will finally fall to the ground. The ground where all the dirt lives. That’s where it needs to live – on the ground where I can step on it every day. It doesn’t all fall off though. It lands on my shoulders and seeps back into me. It goes back to my chest where it originated and begins to grow again.
When I allow it to spread and fill my body, it pours from my eyes and mouth. This is when I lose all control. It takes time for it to come back to tolerable levels. It’s always there though. It’s always inside me. Much of my focus and energy is keeping it down. I don’t like when people keep bothering me in my time of focus. I lose it. I lose the focus, and I let it slip. Before I know it, it will spread throughout my body again.
That’s what happened. I let it slip. There were too many distractions, and it spread. It got everywhere. I took up every tiny space in my body. It took control of the insignificant parts too and turned them into something ugly. I couldn’t get it out. It poured and poured from my eyes and my mouth and my limbs. I felt it, and it was horrible. My chest was bursting with it. I didn’t know how much longer I could take. It was only a matter of time before it broke the skin of my fingertips, my knees. Only a matter of time before my chest opened, fully exposing my heart and all its ugliness. I didn’t want anyone to see that. I didn’t want them to see the blackness, the ugliness, the deterioration of it…. So I did it. I took all the Hydrocodone I had. I whole bottle of it. It was so easy to swallow one after another.
It wasn’t enough though because the pain didn’t stop, and the threat was still there. It only got worse. I needed help.

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