PSA

Listen, depression isn't romantic, it isn't cute, it isn't any of the things you see it romanticized as.

It's not crying into your boyfriends shoulder as he holds you and tells you it's okay.

It's not him seeing the scars and kissing them and telling you he loves you.

It's not looking pretty and biting your lip as you hold back tears.

Depression is standing in your bathroom, hair a disaster, and not one of those fake "I'm a mess but I still look hot" kind of disasters, full on Bigfoot kinda mess. It's standing there after you get home, teeth clenched on a towel in an attempt to muffle the sobs coming out of you that just won't stop. Standing there with your makeup messed up, mascara clumped on your eyelashes and smudged all over your face. Lipstick smeared and on your teeth. You're ignoring all the text messages from your friends because you honestly believe they hate you and would be better off without you. You take out a knife and start running it over your thighs. At the beginning you feel horrible guilt, the thoughts get stronger, telling you that you're just asking for attention, even though no one will ever see these. But as the blood starts coming you feel the pain go away, the pain in your mind, the thoughts battering you to pieces have quieted. This is the only time you can feel peace.

Depression is going to school every morning, it's having a lump in your throat on the bus ride there, wishing you could cry but unable to. It's getting to school and seeing all your friends laughing and happy, and Turing around and walking away because you know you won't be able to fake the happy they feel, and you don't want to ruin their day. It's never telling them about the thoughts which are almost omnipresent, thoughts about death and about your funeral, how in your head it's empty and desolate, not a soul cared about you even in death. They'll never hear about the slashes in your thighs or the demons in your head because if you try to explain the voices they just worry and never understand.

It's sitting in class and feeling the tears you couldn't cry on the bus well up, unable to stop them you ask

"Est-que je peux aller ou toilette?"

You rush to the bathroom and lock yourself in a stall as the tears come, you hide there for much too long, beating yourself up over the class you're missing. When you finally come out you wash your face and plaster the fake smile back on, so no one can tell.

There is so much more, so many more thoughts, many more instances, but these must suffice. I just wish we could stop treating depression as trendy and cute.

Pneumonia kills, but I don't see it trending

Depression does the same, but all I see are emo kid memes and girls on tumblr posting pics of scars with so called "artsy captions"

The parents of the depressed tell us to deal

The teachers say we aren't trying enough

Please, please I beg of you, this is not a pretty picture I paint, but it must be shown, because we are dying, or we are living in hell and I just can't keep going alone.