Earlier this week, I released this gem on Amazon, Kindle, and Create Space. It’s inspired by “She Falls Asleep” by the band McFly, and I thought it’d be nice to give you a glimpse into the novel. If you like what you read below and are curious about how it all pans out…well, now you know where to purchase it!
They say that “it gets better” because apparently, everyone who has ever been depressed has a light at the dark end of their tunnel. It’s all in your head. This is fixable. Your life will get better. Trust me. They think that the cure is to take antidepressants and spill your entire life story to a friend, family member, psychiatrist, or even a stranger. Apparently releasing your inhibitions to one of the above is supposed to make everything better because they “totally understand” where you’re coming from. They think that depression is something that will disappear in a few months after all of your bottled up emotions are finally out in the open to whomever it is you are speaking. No. That’s not how it works. You can’t treat depression with words and some pills, expecting it to vanish like the common cold. You can’t “cure” a neuronal chemical imbalance that affects its victims in various ways like that. Everyone with depression has a different story, so why do people clump it all together when the real problem is that people without depression think that they can fully empathize and be certain that “it gets better?”
If you have ever felt like a hollow body, like every emotion has been drained from your being and all you want to do is sleep due to extreme exhaustion, then you’ll know where I’m coming from. If your parents or anyone else in your life has ever made you feel lesser than the dirt on the ground because they are constantly comparing you to your siblings or anyone else in your life, rendering you useless, then you’ll know exactly where I’m coming from. If you have ever felt the urge to break down in public due to sudden negative thoughts swimming through your mind, then you’ll know exactly where I’m coming from. If you have ever cried yourself to sleep because you feel like a waste of life and can’t do anything right, then you’ll know exactly where I’m coming from. If any of those actions or emotions don’t apply to you, then you can’t understand where I’m coming from. At all.
For that, you’re quite lucky if you’ve never felt that way. Those emotions suck the life out of you. They eliminate all of the joy life has to offer and make you think twice about whether or not you deserve them. You’re eating a delicious meal? Don’t eat it. You’re not worth something that succulent satiating your hunger. You want to go outside and enjoy the sunshine? Don’t do it. You don’t need fresh air and the sun’s warmth beaming down on you when the confines of your four walls have enough lighting. Your best friend wants to hang out? You’re not even worthy of that person’s longing. They’re too good for you. All of the best things in life are too good for you to handle when your mind is constantly telling you that you’re not good enough.
My best friend who I’ve know since we were toddlers, Luca Dawson, believes that he completely understand me. He’s been there for me through all of the negativity life has and still is throwing at me. He has seen me at the peak of my happiness and the depths of my despair (or so he thinks), but that still doesn’t mean that he truly understands me. He just knows me a hell of a lot better than anyone else because after nineteen years of friendship, he’s the only person who bothers to give a shit about me. It’s because of our friendship that everyone thinks that we’re either currently dating or will in the future. But we’re not. Neither of us want to a ruin a perfectly good friendship that has lasted our entire lives, so we’ve kept everything platonic between us. Luca just happens to be the only person who cares about me in general.
As for my family? I’m as good as dead to my parents. I’m the bane of their existence, the child who should have never happened. A mistake, if you will. I’m the reason why my family isn’t currently in a financially better position than we should. I came at a time when they almost had it all, but had to downgrade due to my arrival. I came when my dad should have snagged that CEO position at his corporate job and my mom should have become that successful lawyer. My dad did manage to obtain that position and my mom is a lawyer, so technically they did achieve their dream jobs. They blame me for not having achieved those goals sooner. They also praise my younger brother and sister as if they’re royalty whilst treating me like dirt. In their eyes, I’ll never be as smart as him or beloved as her. They view my anxiety and timidity as weaknesses that I should have outgrown years ago. Since my grades are far from the best, they question what use I would be “in the real world,” yet I have only just completed my first year of college and still have time to decide whether or not my major needs changing. If I start to tear up from their derogatory comments, they tell me that my tears are for nothing and I should just suck it up. As my parents, you’d think that they have seen my misery and would be more understanding, but they’re not. My emotions make me weak and vulnerable according to them, but they only make me human. They’re too caught up in being materialistic and giving the twins a better life than me. They didn’t even help me pay for college despite having the funds. I had to work my ass off in high school to make sure that I would have scholarships and money saved up from working at the local coffee shop to make college happen. They say that I should be grateful, but for what? Blaming me for halting their dreams for a couple of years? For making me feels as if I don’t matter? For not helping me pay my tuition and therefore, causing my senior year to be complete hell? Yes, I should definitely be grateful for all of those things.
My siblings are a little less judgmental than my parents because they know the consequences of their actions and words. The three of us are only a little over a year apart; I’m the eldest whilst Van and Harlow are twins. We were inseparable as kids, like the three amigos. They wanted to do everything that I did because they looked up to me. And then high school happened. You’d think that the twins would love to be in my presence since I am their older sister. Instead, they became more distant, like I was inferior to them for being nerdier than them. I was interested in science and literature, Van was the soccer star, and Harlow was on the dance team. Since I’m not as sporty as them, somehow that made me lesser of a person. What’s more annoying is that not only were they popular, but smart, as well. Being the only kid who could drive, my sophomore and junior years were a pain since I had to cater to the twins. I was like Cinderella, except with more attractive and smarter siblings. At least Cinderella didn’t have to endure everyone’s constant admiration towards her stepsisters.
Everything changed senior year. The pressure of everything I had been through the first three years of high school suddenly started weighing me down. I was a bit too ambitious for the demons playing mind tricks on me and as a result, my ambitions only made matters worse. My grades slipped. They were no longer the straight A’s I had been receiving since you could get letter grades in primary school, but C’s and D’s. I was working overtime at the coffee shop because I was too scared that my grades had negatively affected any chances of me gaining the scholarships for which I had applied. I grew more tired, lost interest in essentially all of my hobbies, and my life at home only grew worse. I stopped attending drama club meetings and resigned from my position as Vice President of my class’ student Council committee (they wouldn’t have it, so I still am VP of my class). I even stopped interacting with my family because they were picking on me for every little thing that I did, from what I ate (when I did), to my size, and everything in-between. That’s the year I decided that maybe my family would be better without me. Maybe I really was a big mistake and this was the world’s way of showing it.
Despite attending college almost six hours away from home with Luca, there’s only so much I can take. Each time I return home for a holiday, I’m faced with the same scrutiny that has haunted me throughout my teenage years. How much more can one take, you may ask? Well, it all depends on how the summer pans out.