Depression, for me.

Everything was dull. Clouds hung over my head no matter how brightly the sun shone. I had to resist the nearly uncontrollable urge to fall flat on the ground, curl up into the grey hoodie I had been wearing for days, and cry. It pained me to smile. I was going through one of the worst bouts of major depression I have ever endured.
I fell into a rabbit hole, and theories, disorders, and research, along with a whole lot of blurry and blank areas was my wonderland. I ached to know more. I needed to know as much as I possibly could know about the human brain and mind and how they interact. I had puzzles with no solutions.
The stress must have gotten to me early on, because I began to feel insane. I never really told anyone about this. I was so insecure and I couldn’t even speak normally. The words just came out as slurs and groans. I was too quiet. I felt trapped inside my head. My friend told me that I was just making this whole thing a big deal. But, depression is a physiological problem. You can have all the money in the world, and you can still be diagnosed with depression. Days went by, but the days seemed so distant. I seemed to live in some other world of my own, where everything negative that I experienced in reality, they all went to that world, then I consumed it. It could have went through my soul, my body, everywhere. The base of negativity just surrounded me from that point on. I never experienced something that could make me feel so worthless. I never thought of the idea of fighting depression, I just thought of ending it. More importantly, I just thought of how easy it would be if I died.
I can’t remember the exact day my life stopped having meaning. I can’t remember when I stopped smiling, or when all I wanted to do was sleep. No one noticed at first, not even me. After school and on weekends, all I did was sleep or just lay in bed with my eyes open, focused on nothing. My friends would ask me to hang out, I would decline, and after awhile they just stopped asking, which was okay with me. In addition to staying in bed, I would also burst into tears for no reason. Once I started crying, I couldn’t stop, and usually I would cry myself to sleep.
When suicide became something I considered, all I wanted to do was get away from anything that could hurt me. I had isolated myself from those who cared about me, and all they could do was watch and wonder what was wrong. I felt like I was some kind of freak.