I’d like to see myself through the eyes of those around me.
I wonder what I look like.
I’d like to see what my depression looks like through the eyes of people who have only ever wept tears for some great tragedy; an appropriate tragedy.
I want to know what thoughts run through their head when they decide not to talk to me. When they decide I’m better off alone, left to my own devices. I want to know where those ideas are coming from, because I haven’t said them.
I want them to know that I just want support, that’s all. I don’t want to be left alone, not like this.
I know It’s hard for me to laugh at jokes right now, I know it’s hard for me to find joy in something as amazing as life, but that doesn’t make me some Ebola-infested monster, does it?
Can’t I get a hug? A compliment? A promise? A reason to live?
I don’t want someone to cure me, I want someone to be there for me when I can’t be.
Maybe that’s too much pressure.
Maybe I’m too needy. Maybe they don’t know what to do because humor is the only way I converse. When that’s gone, I’m gone too. Maybe that scares them.
It scares me.
Maybe if I go to bed, the morning light will burn away all these thoughts. Maybe I’ll forget they even existed.Maybe I won’t care they existed. Maybe people will love me again when I can laugh.