Depression creeps up on you quietly. At the very beginning, you struggle with the little things. You don’t realize it, but you do. It’s kinda like a bad headache. At first you only feel it slightly, buzzing in the back of your head. Then it becomes stronger, and keeps getting stronger. You force out a smile, looking in the mirror. The girl smiles back, her smile seems strained. You quietly tell yourself that you’re not her, but you both know that’s a lie.
You’re stuck in this state of mind. You put on this mask, like a doll, and get ready for school. You try to ignore your problems, but your problems DO NOT go away. They start screaming, shaking, screeching, and begging you to listen, to help. As your problems start to scream louder, the ground starts to shake and split in two. Swallowing you up in the process. You can’t stop falling. You keep falling deeper and deeper. But you force a smile, because it’s alright.
Walking to class is draining. Laughing with your friends is draining. Every little thing you do is draining. You’re all kinds of tired, but you can never fall asleep. If you do fall “asleep,” you have the same recurring nightmare over and over again. Killing the people you love. It feels so real, that you can’t even look at those people the same. You feel the guilt and the shame. In the end, you just feel more drained. Chin up, back straight, and smile.
You get home and crash on your bed. Not knowing what to do, you force yourself out of bed and get a snack. Though the food doesn’t taste the same. Like it’s missing something.
“Like you,” you hear someone say. Not knowing who said that, you look around your room, but you’re all alone.
“Over here”. The voice says again. That voice sounds familiar…..
“Because i’m you,” says the voice. You get up and look in the mirror. The girl staring back is you...well, a shell of your former self. You scream, but time stands still and no one hears you.
“I’m not you,” you snarl at the girl.
“Yes you are! Stop lying to yourself,” she replies
“I don’t wanna be you,” you whisper to her.
“Then do something about it,” she whisper back.
The mirror starts to fog slightly. She laughs gently as she fades away.
“In the meantime, don’t forget to smile,” she says. She’s gone and you see yourself in the mirror. You open your mouth to say something, and the girl in the mirror does the same. You realize something. You really are the girl in the mirror...or were her. You smile to yourself, a real smile.
“I’m not her,” you say proudly to yourself. You turn to go, but before you do, you turn back to the mirror. Smoothing your clothes, and standing up straight.
“Don’t forget to smile.”
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United States • 20 years old