I just want to be loved. I just want to go to bed at night knowing that there is someone out there that I make truly happy. Someone to look forward to spending my life with and more. I deserve that. I was robbed from that by being verbally abused and didn’t know what love actually feels like and now I know, it’s not what I thought it was.
I’ve never understood why I am so sensitive to things when they happen to me over and over again. Like why am I surprised that the guy I once liked turned into an asshole, or the thought that when someone says they changed, but in reality they didn’t. Why does that surprise me every time. The fact that usually I fall for jackasses, or the fact the guys that usually like me are extremely weird, but honestly very genuine people. Why do I fall for false promises every damn time. I know that things probably won’t follow through with the way I am hoping, but that doesn’t change the fact I still do get my hopes up… Every. Damn. Time.
But here I am, smiling the pain away, acting like it’s no big deal and moving on to the next thing that gets me through the day.
It’s been awhile since I’ve felt so depressed I wasn’t sure what to do next. I lived a perfectly fine life. I’ve been blessed throughout my life with people and things that some may never get the opportunity to have. That never really changed the fact that I was hit with depression at the age of 15, sophomore year of high school. Throughout high school I thought it was just SAD, Seasonal Affective Disorder, as the pain only came during the winters, but progressively got worse over the years.
I wasn’t able to explain what I felt or why I felt that way. I avoided hanging out with friends and decided it was best to keep to myself. Little things bugged me more than they ever should. Being depressed at college didn’t help, so I left and moved home to be with my family and boyfriend at the time.
The depression never ended. February of 2015, I began antidepressants as I was diagnosed with severe depression, but that barely worked as I began to become suicidal. My boyfriend decided he didn’t want me anymore and went with another girl. To this day I still get depressed about that thinking I wasn’t good enough, but that’s okay because I’m better without him. A year later to this day, I am off my antidepressants and genuinely happy. I haven’t talked to him in awhile and I’m much better. It’s been almost three months since I have taken my last pill. I am no longer dependent on such a thing to be happy. No one should have to be dependent on medicine to make them happy. There are so many great things in life that are there to make people enjoy life.
Thankful to have found the happiness in my life and to be here to continue this crazy thing called life.