Trust me,

i'm well aware you're the one who dragged me to where we live now. I've joked with my friend about 'living in a swamp' and being 'a forest hermit' for a number of reasons- my humor is a bit grim, I really enjoy nature and solitude, but one of the other main reasons I don't mention? This 'woodland swamp' is what you feel like. For fuck's sake, i'm a Floridian. I know what that kind of environment feels like and you, the murky depression that managed to suck up my feet all those years ago, can mimic it to a fucking T. You and Anxiety always go hand and hand- you're the mud and stagnant water while Anxiety plays the role of the mosquitoes that are constantly screaming in my ear when I finally manage to pull myself back up again.

Anxiety may have been with me first but you, the dripping, water-logged creature that you are, have done far worse. I hate the paranoia and constantly looking over my shoulder that Anxiety gives me but i've grown up with that as a constant. I'm used to it. YOU, however, will slowly leak up through my floorboards and by the time I see you it's too late. I'm in your sopping wet embrace, sobbing in the dark while you rub my back, smothering me in sludge with each careful caress. We walk around this dark house in the early hours when we should be sleeping. We stare into the void for hours on end, emotions completely gone when you've only been back for a single day. By the time you drag yourself out my door, be it five days or two years later, i'm left a revolting mess. Unwashed skin, mucky teeth, a rat's nest of hair, even darker circles than I already have, and littered all around me is the general detritus that you leave behind. Dank laundry piled high, crumpled papers, strands of hair, layers of dust, and who knows what else.

We weren't always this toxic and you weren't as much of a monster as you've become. We were the generally and socially anxious 'artist' and her depressed muse. But you became a towering, oozing wight and I became a Swamp Witch who has made a home in the environment you dragged me into. I know my family invited you in, not yet knowing what it was that they opened the door for, and I know that they've learned just how big of a mistake it was... but i've worked on myself for years now, gone to therapy, spoke about all the things you and the other little gremlins cause, yet you still can't let me be. I've always been an extremely apathetic person but also tried to make others happy which, in turn, pleased me. It was a good set up. Now I can't even do that anymore. I have no energy. I don't even fight you anymore since I always lose. Self harm. Therapy. Baker-Acted. Medicated. Dropped out during senior year. Fuck, I couldn't even finish my classes through hospital homebound. I had planned to wade out into the afterlife by age 16 which is what YOU decided on, yet you made me too tired to even bother trying. Instead of that, you opted to drain my life force, weigh me down, and breathe your sickness into me so I can't even drown in the water you summoned up.

Today is my birthday- May 22. I'm now 22 years old, as of 3:04 am, and living like a recluse because you have been my ever-present companion for far too long. I'm too tired to fight you. So Depression, I want you to know, from the bottom of my pruney, wretched heart- you have disappointed me immeasurably, damaged everything I hold dear, wasted years of my life, and I can not forgive you for that. I will continue with healing myself and helping you shrink back down to a manageable size. Perhaps with time we will no longer be bedfellows but for now... I grow weary of your company. Don't let the door hit you on the way out.