Dear Depression,

I gave away all of the good parts of me to others in order to feel like you weren’t all that I was. I didn’t talk to anyone about you; I just bled into my journal. I tried for so long to rescue everyone that I could touch to not feel you for one damn second.

You were too much. All I seemed to do was float around, mildly dizzy and utterly numb. I’d cry. I’d cake on bright make up to hide my pain. Then I stopped. I stopped pretending that I was okay. I thought that doing so would rid me of you.

I was wrong.

Now that we were no longer fucking around, you hit me harder and harder. And I hated you. I loathed you with every fiber of my being. I loathed you so much that my obsession with you became my personality.

And I hated me for that.

I went too far. You won that battle, but you will not win the war. I have people who love me, people who are helping me help myself, so either fuck off or get ready.

I plan to stick around.

– Nita Pan

Listening to: “Save Myself” by Ed Sheeran