My friend depression

The scariest part about opening up is that people have access to what’s within you.

Having the knowledge and the wisdom that you gently gave them, to use what they know about you, however they please.

I’ve been gone a minute. I’m sorry about that. Besides my huge struggle with procrastination and laziness, I have been writing. « Why weren’t you posting » you’ll ask me.We’ll some things are just too deep to be shared. Sorry.

However today, I’ll be sharing a little bit of myself with you.

I have a friend. Let’s call him depression. He comes and goes. And it’s been so for many years now. We met a few years back when I first left France for a new school, a new house and a new life in Tanzania. Depression has been checking up on me once in a while. Sometimes he just leaves when I meet someone new and he’s back when life decides that I was better off without that friend.

Depression is close to many of my loved ones. They think I don’t know that they met, but they behave the same way I do when he’s around. That’s how I know they know each other.

Depression isn’t such a bad friend. Although he comes and goes, he seemed to be the only one whom stayed with me all throughout the years. He was there eac

change schools, he was there when my sister passed a few years back and he was also there each time every single one of my friends became acquaintances, then people I once knew.

Depression happens to be more loyal than many people I once knew.

Depression is the kind of friend that knows me so well, he knows when to kick in. He’s there when I feel lonely and he’s also there when I fall asleep at night. Sometimes he even wakes me up at night to remind me that he’s not going anywhere, anytime soon, and when I think he’s finally busy with something else then me, he finds his way right back in my life.

Depression is jealous, he makes me act a certain way sometimes and then he shows me that my reaction wasn’t excessive and that if people keep leaving my life, it’s rather because they don’t deserve me. Sometimes I believe him. And right when I start doubting his words again, he shows me that he will never leave my sides, unlike most people.

I’m used to depression, and I feel like he’s used to me too. Sometimes I feel like he’s scared to make new friends. And so am I. Because each time I tried, I failed. Depressions isn’t only scared of my friends, he’s also insecure about my lovers. I feel like he gives them a peep talk each time they meet. That’s maybe why all my relationships end up being vain.

I kind of gave up. But deep inside I know that there is hope. Maybe when I recharge my batteries I’ll give it another shot, but so far, depression is the only one I open up too.

The scariest part about opening up is that people have access to what’s within you.

Having the knowledge and the wisdom that you gently gave them, to use what they know about you, however they please.

Almost 21 years and when I look back and doubt his words, I realize that throughout the years, depression has been my only true and faithful friend.

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