Number one in The journal enteries of me.

Another cold night as I snuggle up in bed, with my red fluffy blanket and pillows scattered around my pathetically large bed. Surrounded by my own mess of clothes, bags, water bottles, towels, plates, shoes and who knows what else. Hair a mess, so is everything. Yet it is another day where depression slowly creeps up my arm, tiptoeing into my mind until it has engulfed me completely, whispering, no, chanting in my ear. “Nothing is going to be okay!”, it screams. This has been the way I have been living for the past few years now, my emotionions on a never ending roller coaster. I mean, I thought I got better, so did everyone. I started talking more in class, raising my hand more. My grades went up and my bonds with teachers grew. I started wearing yellow, it is a very happy colour on people. I told my mum I loved her. Little things like this made me think that I was getting better. It was good for a while, but then it came crashing down. This little twisted mind game yet once again entered my brain, taking away everything I have and that is important to me. My family, my future, and most importantly, my will to live. I haven’t gone to school for two weeks now, not one day. And this isn’t the first. I look at myself in the mirror and even ask myself what is happening, I don’t understand. “But you’re not like that! You’re smart, you have a lot ahead of you.” I repeat to myself the phrases that others have tried to enlighten me with. This time is different. This time, that lonely face doesn’t smile back in the mirror anymore. She just lies down in bed, looking forward to another restless sleep, hoping to not wake up from this sickening replay of the merry go round.

Last updated June 13, 2018