When Even Asking For Help Is Too Much To Ask

When you’re out for the count, you can’t see past dark

Depression is a debilitating disposition that can be breathlessly alluring if you sit in it long enough to be mesmerized by how quickly you can make that steep fall — without warning or anything tangible to hold on to for the deathly plunge.

When I imagine how long it has been since I sat on my bed as a pre-teen and briefly considered burning down the house after exhaustively wading through the options that would provide permanent relief — I can’t help but stare at my parents as they casually entertain the day — without any clue of what their only daughter suffered under their care.

It wasn’t their fault, and it wasn’t mine, but what remains is the residue of a stolen childhood and the formality of surviving the worst and preparing for the ultimate showdown between dueling spirits.

I’m winning so far, but the war is far from over as I contemplate how easily I succumbed to the temptation of free falling from my friend’s high-rise apartment after a lone session on the treadmill. The bright beautiful sky with fluffy white clouds was offensive, and the last song I heard was eerily dramatic with a tempo that could match a loud thud.

The confusion came from the familiar desperation that’s borne from exiting a zone that no longer beats to the drum of progression. When you don’t know who you are anymore and can’t reconcile your present with what you hoped for, when hoping was a privilege, there’s a constant nagging that keeps your dismissal — activated.

Of course playing with your emotions with such recklessness is abhorrent, and even recalling these moments makes me hate myself even more because if I really want out so bad, why the fuck am I still here — baiting the soreness of my soul into the realm of the unknown — the peaceful calm after a violent demise.

I’m still here because I want to be, and also every second of my being is a victory that could swiftly turn into what most would consider — defeat, even though that aspect of my journey was completed years ago.

Not too long ago, there was a tweet from a user that I don’t follow, but one of my followers retweeted it, and the message was…