chapterthree

          It's 2:14 AM.
          It's just another one of those sleepless nights. I am locked in my own mind again. I become a different person at night. I once wrote a letter to myself a couple weeks ago at about this same time, and when I woke up and read it, I didn't even recognize that person. This depression is like a demon inside me. It changes me. I become someone I'm not. This depression tortures me with horrible thoughts and memories. It makes me want to scream, and run, and cry. I can't even hide from it. It's just there, slowly killing me.
         No one cares about you, Grace. Why do you even keep fighting when no one is there for you. You're all alone. You're never going to get better. You're going to be stuck with this depression forever.
           Flashbacks from my past started being thrown at me in every direction. The girls pointing their fingers at me, calling my name, and laughing. Those mean words people called me. The rumors. The teasing. The secrets. The bullies. Everyone gaining up on me. All this kept replaying in my head over and over and over again.
          I told you no one cares about you. Grace, you're just stupid and ugly and worthless.
          I first started getting bullied in fifth grade, but at the time I was used to it and it was just minor teasing. It started to grow in middle school though. It changed me. These flashbacks come back almost every night. The voices and laughs of the people that hurt me. No one really cared that it was hurting me so much, not even my best friend.
          Things started to change in my mind, and I started imagining I was talking to Anna about the whole bullying thing. I have barely said a thing about it to her. I can just imagine starting to tell her about all of it, and breaking inside. I can just imagine the tears streaming down my face, trying to hide them, and wanting to run away. I know I wouldn't be able to though. It's all just a matter of time before she asks me about it.
          I'm scared. I'm afraid to cry. I don't want to tell my secrets. I've kept them in for so long that I don't think I have the strength to anyway. I don't think I could say it. She says she understands what I'm going through, but does she really? What if I can't even say it? What if I just start crying instead? I don't want to cry. I haven't really cried about this, or anything actually in a long time. I don't even think I know how to anymore. Ugh, I don't want to do this anymore.
          I sat up in bed, crawled over to the edge, and pulled the curtains to the side. I stared at the darkness of the night. No one is awake but me. The only light on is the street lamp a few houses down. Everyone else is fast asleep comfortably in their warm beds with their loved ones along side them. And me? I'm awake, and all alone.
          

chaptertwo

          The car ride home was silent. The last bit of light was fading away as the sun sank farther and farther below the horizon. My mom drove lost in her own thoughts, and I sat there feeling nothing but numb, watching the other cars with their head lights on pass us on the freeway. The only noise you could really hear was the white noise of all the cars as they rushed to get home.

          I watched the people driving on the freeway through my side window. One car was full of soccer kids looking like they just ended a great game, and a mother who seemed to be trying to concentrate on the road, not the crazy children chatting up a storm in the back seat. Another car had a lady seemingly talking to herself, even though in reality she was just using her Bluetooth. A car just about to exit the freeway had only a man. He drove in silence, like myself. He looked so sad too, like maybe he had recently lost someone he loved or maybe he just got fired from his job. 

          Or maybe this man was really just fighting this horrible thing called depression.
Like me.

chapterone

          I was completely frozen. My mind had gone in to a frantic state. I felt her watching me, waiting for an answer. My heart started racing as my therapist waited for me to answer her question. The thing is that my mind had gone completely blank, and I didn't know how to answer her.
          "I-I, uh, I don't know," I stuttered.
          She didn't say anything. It's almost like she didn't hear me. She did though, and she was waiting for me to know. My heart was racing as I frantically looked around the room, hoping that all of a sudden I'd find the right answer. I couldn't think of anything though.
          "I just, um, I don't really know," I repeated.
          She continued to watch me. My anxiety was really starting to get to me.
          Oh, please. Please just stop.
          The silence had put me into panic mode. I wanted to give her an answer, but I just couldn't find the answer. I started to feel like I was going to cry from all the pressure.
          No, no, no, no. I can't do this. Don't cry, Grace. Keep yourself together. You rarely ever cry. Why are you going to start crying? Just try to smile. Come on. You must keep fighting.          I couldn't even put on a smile. I just stared back at her. It was so silent that I could almost hear my heart beating out of my chest. I just continued to look back directly into her eyes in hope that just maybe she would realize I actually don't have an answer.
          "Okay, well would you be willing to talk to your parents about this?"
          Oh, thank God. She spoke. Wait, um, what? Shoot, she's expecting me to answer.
          "Um, about what exactly? Sorry."
          "Well, about your depression, and your hidden feelings."
          I sat there thinking for a second. Memories started hitting me left and right.
          "Um," I swallowed deeply. "I don't think so. I just couldn't."
          "Okay. Well, would you like to further explain to me why you don't think you could?"
          Ugh. Why do I have to go through this right now? I don't want to be here anymore. I feel like she has my emotions at the palm of her hand. Or like she's backing me into a dark corner where there is no escape. I want to stay strong. I must, but she keeps trying to make me emotional or something, and it's killing me.
          I cleared my throat and adjusted my blouse. I made sure to keep myself from making eye contact. I didn't want to answer.
          "Grace?"
          "Yea?"
          "Why don't you think you'd be able to talk to your parents?"
          A spark of anger started to rise in me.
          "You want to know why? Because my parents just don't understand. They think everything is fine and dandy. They don't realize that I'm hurting. They are making me talk to you, because they think I'm crazy," I paused. "They don't even know what I'm feeling."
          "What are you feeling, Grace?"
          "Everything. I don't even flipping know what I feel anymore. I'm just a mess inside. I'm hurting so much. I constantly feel like I'm drowning in my own feelings. I can't even breathe anymore. I want to be strong, but I can't. I'm breaking inside. And no one can even see it."
          I stopped as my heart started to hurt. Everything was just getting to be too much. My therapist, Anna, just sat there quietly. She was thinking.
          "When you first walked in to my office, I noticed. I noticed that even though you were smiling and laughing, you were hurting inside. I could see it in your eyes. I could see that you weren't happy like you were playing off to be. When I asked how you were, you answered that you were fine, but I knew otherwise. Grace, you may feel like you're alone in this world right now, and that no one understands, but I'm willing to bet that someone does. As a therapist I am here to listen to you; to help you get through these times. You don't have to feel alone, because I am here for you. When you're here with me you don't have to feel afraid to be yourself. I am here to help you get through this, but in order for me to help you I'm going to need you to help let me in."