Employed By Depression

I keep running away from almost every opportunity I get, especially with jobs.

But in reality, depression has become like a job to me over the past 10 or 11 years.

It’s consumed almost every ounce of me. It doesn’t matter what I’m doing or not doing, it doesn’t matter if I’m with people or alone.

Every other day if not everyday is a constant struggle with having too much sleep or not sleeping enough, eating or not eating at all, feeling alone yet needing to isolate myself so that I don’t annoy people.

People tell me to find a hobby, to get up and do something, but even when I find a hobby.. or do something I feel I’m decent at, I either lose interest by finding another interest or I get bored or give up because it’s too difficult.

What seems to be my rock bottom, usually doesn’t feel like it’s enough to help me soar to the surface.

Yet despite all of these things, I’m still fighting even when I’m on my last straw.

I’m still fighting even when I feel as though I’m at my lowest point.

Someone once told me that it’s sometimes harder to let go than it is to hold on.

That may not be true for some people, but I feel as though it’s true for me personally because no natter how much I want to give into letting my body give up, no natter how many times I run away and create a new identity, no matter how many times I try to give up, for some reason, I snap out of it. I find something that motivates me without even searching for it and it’s enough until it isn’t enough again.

Infliction

I just need to escape and let go of what hurts me and thats why I tell people the things i feel about myself but in a way that hurts them

They are not me nor am I them. They arent in me nor am I in then.

Looking in I see something startled, out I feel neglected by myself

Social Anxiety.

When I’m speaking my opinion with a friend.

Me: Sorry
Them: Why are you sorry?

When I’m barely talking in a group.

Them: Why aren’t you talking?
Me: Sorry. Everytime I speak up, I’m either being ignored or I cause an awkward silence.

When I’m at a restaurant with a friend and have a plate of food in front of me barely eaten.

Them: Why aren’t you eating? Makes me feel awkward for being the only one eating.
Me: Sorry. I get anxiety sometimes when I eat in public.

I apologize a lot because growing up, I felt invisible and I got ignored a lot up until highschool. I was afraid to eat in public, let alone even talk in a group of friends.

People tell me I apologize too much and that I shouldn’t. I apologize because I picture myself to be the teacher in charlie brown you mumbled in the background and felt like people thiught of me that way. That’s mainly why I don’t socialize often with my friends in person.

So when people tell me to ” get off the internet ” and to ” make ‘ real ‘ friends “, it’s not that easy for me. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn’t. My friends online are very much real to me and a lot of them know more about me and have stuck by me more than most people in my outside of the internet life.

Tortured Blindside

Some people will betray you
Like a hawk with a carcass                    no matter how many times you return the favour                                               you’ll be stabbed for the times you didn’t

Some people will torture you with what was                                                                   and slowly poison                                     you with a deadly punch of sugar        right from underneath your blindside

You need to take what you know and throw it back                                        make them plead mercy in front of your sharp smile
Lure them in with a snide comment and kill them with your instincts

Tense Bewilderment

Growing up you told me to layer up
Little did I know that you meant more than just in accord of the weather

Boys were told that they were stronger
Girls were made out to be the weaker ones
Atleast when I was younger

There are seperately shot put balls for the girls and for the boys
One set for the weaker sex
One for the stronger
And as sexist as it was, I didn’t know any better

So I struck up my own confidence, ran out of site and picked up the heavier weight
Using most of my strength to hover it into the air, bam, it landed so hard and so fast
But my, did I feel good for doing what I wanted

Not fitting in, segregated
Was told that I couldn’t do the same work as everyone else
Humiliated when I needed reassurance and repetition

Are you a boy? They all chanted knowing who I identified as, it still hurt
It still does

Mom, dad, I’m your son.

Mom, dad, it’s as though you have three sons instead of two and one daughter
Was what I said to my parents before I realized I was who I am today
Although I may have said it in a joking way, I was being serious
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll say it again to them
And maybe, just maybe, I can tell them that every time they say ” I love you…. but…” that the ” but ” only encourages me back into the closet I forgot existed besides the one I store my clothes in
So dark, so full of confusion and self hatred
They may be confused, but so am I at times
But they still have a child, just a slightly differently version
They didn’t lose a daughter, they just lost the label
They gained a son

Broken, but slowly healing.

Little did I know, just a little boy myself, that something would be ripped from me
Who’s to say what breaks you or makes you
Analyze, study different aspects
Details, dissecting
I didn’t know that I’d come to hate someone so much
Blame one person for something I most likely gave consent to
Not even knowing what it meant, what was happening
In a daze, little things come to mind, rest a haze
Maze, walking through my mind and he had no idea just what he had stolen
If only he had said something, no
He moved forward, happily
Angry I was, such a hate chewing boy I was
And here I am, still in shambles, scrambling everywhere to discover the things that both broke and died

When the bullied became the bullier.

I came across a post on Tumblr by a blog that encouraged it’s followers to write a story starting off with or to contain the sentence ” Of course I was hurt the entire time. I just didn’t say anything. “

So I decided to share mine with my followers and people in general on here.

When the bullied became the bullier.

Of course I was hurt the whole time. I just didn’t say anything.

I had a hard time speaking up and using my voice. It was almost as though I hadn’t found a voice of my own that wasn’t shaky and half silent, half vocal.

They would taunt and tease me almost every single day.

You’re not feminine enough. Are you a boy or a girl? You write like a man. You’re in the wrong washroom, this is the girl’s.

Prior to being bullied regarding my gender identity, I had repeated grade 3 and that’s when it started. Before being called names and being made fun of, my biggest worry regarded getting home late after an after school activity and missing my favourite show on the television. I knew what bullying was, but I had never really been a victum of it before, or not to my awareness.

Can I do the same work as everyone else? I asked my grade 6 teacher. No you can’t.

No you can’t. 

Shot down by one of the school’s teachers. Just because I had a hard time with the work that the majority of other students my own age had been given.

Up until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t realized that being told that I couldn’t do something that other people could do, actually became the root of a few major incidents in my life. The root cause of many issues.

For years, I let people step over me, trample on me as though I almost wasn’t there. Treated as though my very presence was minor instead of influential.

Finally out of nowhere, my voice was found and it was being heard, but not listened to. Muffled by the gossip that flooded the halls, drowned out underneath the sea of fake friends and victumizers.

It was then that I became the bullier.

I stopped allowing people to treat me like a broken piece of glass. Word escaped my mouth that I wouldn’t dared to have spilt out prior. I stopped feeling bad for what I had thrown at others. Eventually, the feeling of power flooded through my veins and not just through my head.

Mind games. Torment. Emotional torture.

Eventually that’s what I put everyone through who crossed my paths, who showed any interest in me. I barely trusted anyone, so testing people became second nature to me after a while because it was easier to let people have my wrath, than for me to trust them right off the bat and have it gone to waste.

Balance finding.

Although I’ve been hurt, and hurt others, I’m trying harder to find a balance between trusting and not being too vulnerable. So far, it’s becoming less difficult.