Okay, so, I’ve been diagnosed with depression for just over four years now, and frankly I’m getting a bit tired of it all. My friends simply do not have the capacity to understand. I, an eighteen year old girl, cannot stand my own reflection. I have created this smiling persona, which serves its purpose of falsely leading the people around me to believe that I am ‘okay’, who is able to get all A’s at A Levels, but actually, I couldn’t give a shit. But maybe that’s the fluoxetine speaking? A few grades can’t make me want to live any more than the monotonous personalities who surround me on a day today basis. Four years. Four years of dreading the morning. Four years of cutting. Four solid fucking years of self hate. I am tired. I am tired of this facade. I am tired of life. More than once I have found myself with a noose around my neck. What’s stopping me? At the time, my friends. Now? Well, the problem is that I can no longer answer that question. I fill my life with busy nothings. It distracts me for a while, but a fleeting moment such as this one is deadly. You know, I’ve seen myself being run over by cars in my own mind. Planes crashing into the buildings that I am sat in. Fire, drowning, hanging, all in my own head, which is worrying enough, but worse still? I never even flinched at these visions, dreams, wishes. I don’t know who I am anymore, and I certainly cannot justify why I am alive.