I don't want to say for certain, as I know that in order to be truly diagnosed, you have to be with a real doctor, or a psychologist, and have your parents present, as I'm under age, and I absolutely hate, hate, hate people who self diagnose, but I think I may be depressed.
Lord knows I'm not certain, not at all, but I want to find out why, sometimes, I have these days where I feel.. kind of.. empty? Is that the correct word? Days where I'll feel like I don't want to do anything, I can't be bothered to talk to people, every little thing gets on my nerves, where the sound of laughing, or people smiling makes me feel even worse.
Now, I haven't actually spoken to anyone who has depression to try and confirm this little idea that I've got, but during one of my sessions speaking with Tina, the school nurse, she said that she thought I may have, not depression per say, but a 'branch' of it, so to speak.
I know that she cannot diagnose me, but her comment, and how I'd been feeling, of course, got me curious, and got me thinking.
Normally, when I'm in one of these moods, it's easier for me to start crying, I'll snap at people who only have good intentions (I believe so anyways) and when I'm asked how I'm feeling, my only reaction is 'I'm tiered', simply because I don't know how else I'm supposed to express it.
Honestly, I used to be one of those girl's who wanted to be dark, mysterious, moody, an enigma. But now.. now I really fucking hate it. I hate suffering, I hate crying, I hate being in my own skin, and I hate that I feel all these things.
I looked up on how they treat depression, and thinking back to my dad, I remembered him to be on medication, which he stopped recently.
For the love of God, I don't want to actually be depressed. I don't want to be hyped up on medication to make me happy, I don't want to have friends who'll talk about me 'attention seeking' behind my back, I don't fucking want to be misunderstood.
You think I hurt myself for attention too, huh?
You think I wanted to have to go through telling my mum that the cuts on my arm were something that I and I alone had done to myself? Do you think I wanted to hear her say that she felt sick at the sight of me, or ask me if I was attention seeking? My own mother.
I'm digressing. I tend to do that, you know, rant. It led to me loosing my best friend. And yeah, I don't give a fuck how many times I've mentioned her since we stopped talking, or how many times I've cried, blamed, hurt myself because of her, I fucking loved her to death, and I would do anything to change myself to bring her back. But I've already driven her away. She fucking hates me, and I don't blame her for that. I'm going to ask this question until the day I die - why has she always hated me, when I always loved her? What did I do wrong?
Again, I'm digressing.
I hope to God that I'm not depressed. I've seen what it did to my dad, and I've seen what it's done to others.
I want my friends to understand, but explaining is either too difficult, too deep for them, or they don't believe me, not really.
It makes me cry, makes me so fucking sad to know that I don't feel as close to any of them as I did my last best friend, but even with her I couldn't talk about my feelings - I didn't want to burden her, simple as.
I told the school nurse of our broken friendship, you know? Told her it was one of the causes of my feeling down. She said that, maybe she couldn't handle my problems.
Yeah.
Cos saying that makes me feel so much fucking better, doesn't it.
