A gloom hangs overhead Every action cast by shadows of its dark cloud Making even blessings tinged by a nagging pain One half wants to get up and take control While the other has involunterly surrendered to becoming an emotional wreck Yet... it all seems appropriate This darkness. Feels like it shouldn't be any other way Like its what i at least deserve And must bear For the things i've failed For surviving For what she no longer possesses... Life. It's been none a bigger lesson learnt than the heaviness of regret No amount of sincerity will ever change a thing Now that all that's left of her are Memories
Triggered upon hearing the death of a very close friend. I went to the nearest place of privacy, in this case it was a toilet cubical in the Camden Medical Centre. I've had depression since I was about 14 and I absolutely detest this. It's such a sick sick disorder. The biggest issue I had with it was the guilt it puts me through which of course is a one way road to a vicious circle. I get guilty, I get upset, it make it easier for the depression to come back, and I feel more guilty. See what I mean?
I felt so guilty because all in all, I am a lucky girl and have a pretty great life. I'm nearly thirty now and if I were to tell you my life you may even want it for yourself. So it not bad, not bad at all. So why do I have this shitty looming feeling around me all the time. At 14, at a time when I was still figuring myself out, it came at a particularly bad time. I lashed out! Sadly on the people closest to me, namely my poor parents. It makes me feel even guiltier as I grew up because we had such a great relationship and 15 years on, we are still close but there is always this crap period from the time I was 14 to around 20. They still don't know that I have depression. Nobody except my spouse does.
What I wrote above was for a friend who jumped to her death. She had depression, none of us knew. She text us about 3 months before that fateful day that she has depression but she is finally coming to terms with it, that she wants to meet us and tell us everything. She jumped before she could bring herself to open up to us. If I have a good life, she had a fabulous life. She was beautiful, popular and so filthy rich she has no concept of money or the public transport. I know many people may call her childish or ungrateful for what she has to have ended her life despite all she had. But I feel her you know. I almost feel guilty to have been able to get my head above the fog while she succumbed. While stewing in my own shit, I never reach out to her enough. We had 3 months to reach out to her but we let her take her time. If I had opened up to her about my own condition, would it have been different?
I'm not sure and will never know. I still miss her.