Oh, my sweet, dear depression. I must admit, there have been days when I have loved you more than myself. You’ve given me an excuse to lay down and do nothing, you’ve given me reason to go out in my pajamas, you’ve helped me lose weight by taking away my appetite.
Then, there are days I’ve hated you. You’ve tied me down so I couldn’t get up, you’ve weighed me down so it was hard to breathe, you’ve made me believe life is not worth living.
The bad outweighs the good in our relationship. Having you around is like accepting yet another abusive, toxic person. I have no tolerance for that anymore. You try to turn myself into my own toxic person, and I’m through with being treated this way.
You’ve watched me as I cut myself, you handed me the knife. You’ve watched me as I’ve cried out for help to an empty apartment. You’ve held me when I couldn’t get out of bed, you told me it was okay to spend an entire month there.
I don’t want you around anymore. This is as hard for me as it is for you because this means I’m going to have to work at. Work to keep you away. I’m building up my walls to block you out, I’m ready for a battle.
You, my sweet, sweet depression, well, frankly, you can go back to hell. Right where you came from.