My Depression is Insane

I am fragile. My depression is insane—selfish. She wants all the attention in the world.

She wakes up so late in the morning because she likes to stare at the ceiling at 3 am. She doesn’t want to attend my classes, school works make her sick. She eats a lot. She loves to lie at my bed all day. For her, even the simplest tasks are too overwhelming. She’s so quiet and so lazy. But most of the times she’s undeniably crazy. She cries a lot and I don’t know why. When my dog peed on my bed, she cries. When I lack a piece of coin, she cries. When someone shouts, she cries. When something is missing, she cries. When she sat, she cries. When she sleeps, she cries.

She wants to escape this world…with me. I said, “No”—and she mumbles. She is sad just like I am. She is misunderstood. She is ignored. She stares at the passersby who don’t care.

My Depression is Insane

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