Depression, what is it? It’s a ten letter word that most people don’t take too seriously. A word that seems to have lost meaning, but a disease that so many people seem to be suffering from nowadays. Nobody seems to know how it originated but depression isn’t something easy. I should know. Depression makes you feel the lowest and causes you to reach rock-bottom. It’s not something that can be fought with a prescription and most definitely not a trend, people don’t make up depression for attention, it is real. Everything seems to be your fault and nothing you do seems right, or so to you it seems. The only way it can be solved is by taking your own life, or so you think.

Webster dictionary describes depression as a psychoneurotic or psychotic disorder marked especially by sadness, inactivity, difficulty in thinking and concentration, a significant increase or decrease in appetite and time spent sleeping, feelings of dejection and hopelessness, and sometimes suicidal tendencies. I can, for the most part, agree with their definition of it but… depression is more than that.

Depression at some point describes you and how you are, if you let it happen. It isn’t the most beautiful thing in the world but it isn’t the most unimportant. People who are depressed are described as anti-social or overly sensitive, which I can sure as hell assure each and every one of you that think this that is not the case. A lot of the time you aren’t really able to distinguish a depressed person because they mask it well. But they are somewhere out there, and all a majority of people do is ridicule them and add fire to the flame. If you think you’re helping these people you are beyond wrong, you’re only increasing their anxiety.

All it took for me was a week… a week in a psychiatric hospital to realize how low I had gotten. Aspirin, Advil, Sleep-Aids, and Tylenol, attempted hanging, cutting, and various factors can do that to you, I guess. A week with a bunch of other adolescents, as myself, to realize how sad I’d become, which believe me is sad. The sadness at watching your dad coming every day from work to see you during visiting hours with a plate of food ready for you. Your friends writing on your Facebook wall to see if you’re alive. The moment that for once in your life, you’re loved.

You meet all sorts of people, people with depression, eating disorders, cutting obsessions, bipolar disorder, and so many things unimaginable. The common link was depression, that one enormous thing most consider to be the minimal. Depression was the most deadly thing in us.

Being abandoned by your mother and always wanting a connection with her may not seem like a big deal…but to me it is. Feeling like an outcast to your family is another one that people say is an exaggeration but isn’t. I’m depressed not particularly from people who have done what they’ve done to me but by those people who have ABSOLUTELY nothing better to do with their lives but mock others. Those are the people I pray for. They are the reason as to why most of the most wondrous people that I know are down in the dumps.

I’m not here to say that everyone ridicules others, but there is a majority of people who do. I’m just here to speak out to those people who do and hopefully they realize what they’re doing. I am one of the lucky ones who survived. This very moment I could pretty much be in a coffin, buried under the ground. But... I’m not. I’m alive and doing a bit better. A week in that horrid hospital with amazing people didn’t necessarily make me better but it sure was an eye-opener.

There are millions of people who go out and do far worse stuff than what I did and they succeed in dying but they fail at having and living their lives. All for what? A group of idiotic people with the brain size of a pea? If you’re one of those people who are considering what I did… you are not alone. You, and every single one of you, are blessed and beautiful in your own ways. Don’t let the criticism and maliciousness of others stand in your way. Be yourself, be beautiful and shine.