Tag Archives: person


We were talking and joking and I said something that made you both laugh. My comment made you both agree that nothing has changed. That I haven’t changed.

This was a little concerning to me. My mind spun for a moment before I drew myself back.

I haven’t changed? In over a year since you haven’t seen me, nothing has changed? I’m worried by that sentiment because I know where I was a year ago. I’m coming to one of three conclusions:

1.) I hid it a lot better than I thought I did while I knew you. I must have isolated myself to the point where you really don’t see a change in me since then. Maybe I put on some sort of mask when I was with you and didn’t let anything I was feeling leak from me. The anxiousness and irritability and sadness and utter emptiness… Maybe I kept them all and more from you undetected.

2.) Maybe you saw all those things and still see them now. And that’s concerning because I don’t feel them now. At least not as consistently and constantly. I didn’t feel them sitting there with you two days ago. So if you continue to see those things in me, I’m confused as to how.

3.) You ignored everything I’d said to you in the past. You ignored the pain in my eyes and wrote me off. Even when I told you it was there, you still chose to see only the good things I presented. So of course now I look no different. Of course now I sound the same. Because you aren’t listening. You’re choosing what to hear. You wrote off my depression as just me whining or complaining or being pessimistic. A year ago, you were ignoring… me.

You know, the third point is the one I’m afraid is correct. And that sucks. When I was severely depressed, there were a few people around me who … hurt me. Not intentionally. Not maliciously. I would highly doubt they even know.

I had someone reproach me for not getting enough sleep at a time I was afraid to go to sleep because I’d have bad dreams and it would end in me waking up and having to face yet another day. I had someone tell me how much they cared about me only to never make time for me again. I had people talk down to me, belittle me, and offer a lot of challenge and little to no support. When I told someone I’d been hurt by others during that time because of all of this, she replied, “Well, what do you want them to do?” or “What do you expect them to do?” in a condescending tone. I even had someone, after I told him people never cared enough to follow up with me, promise me he would follow up.

He never did.

Now, I don’t know exactly what I needed or wanted from these people. I guess I wanted to know I was cared for. Because they would tell me they did care for me but then there was never any evidence to support that.

I don’t know what my point is. I guess if someone tells you they are depressed or severely depressed, know they chose those words carefully and they know what they mean. Know that talking down to someone is hurtful and makes them feel like you think they’re worthless. Know that when someone tells you something incredibly painful, you should probably follow up, not act like it never happened.

Know that I have changed. In the year since you’ve seen me, I’m not the same person anymore. The depression is mild and the more severe bouts come in waves that are far apart from one another. I’m not drowning anymore. Breathing comes easily a good, fair amount of the time now. I’m not suffocating anymore. There are still incredibly hard days and some of those days turn into weeks. But now the good days outnumber the bad and, when you last were with me, the good days were so few and far between that I couldn’t remember what they tasted like.

I’m afraid that the fact that you don’t see that change means you were never really looking to begin with.




I heard you said good things about me.

Really, that should make me feel great. It should make me smile a little more. It should give me some sort of warm, fuzzy feeling or something like that.

Instead, it scares me.

Somehow, in the short time that I have known you, you have seen a person that you like. You even used the word ‘fun’ to describe me. No one ever says that. But you’ve seen someone in me who you want to be around. Who you enjoy.

And that terrifies me.

Because what if you hang out with me more and you realize you don’t actually think anything good of me? What if I start to get on your nerves and rub you the wrong way? What if you realize that I am not a fun person? What if you start to see the other sides of me? The other sides that are not as pretty or shiny or happy or good? What if you realize you don’t want to be around me? What if you begin to wonder how you could have ever enjoyed being around me?

I enjoy you. You are so much fun and you have such a good heart and I love being around you. And I just don’t want to lose you when you realize that I am not as great as the person that you’ve made me out to be in your head. What if I can’t live up to your expectations?



He is the kind of person who just makes you laugh. He has a good heart and he’s a total goof and he makes you feel better just by talking to him. He’s marrying one of my good friends this summer and they make such a wonderful couple and I can’t wait until I get to see them start living married life together.

They’re the kind of friends I hope I’m friends with forever, you know?

Anyway, I don’t know him as well as I know her, which is fair because I lived with her for a year and a half. I have had a couple classes with him, but we’ve never really talked a whole lot outside of those classes.

The other day though, we ran into each other as we were walking back to our apartments and I remembered I had a couple of books I borrowed from him, so he followed me upstairs. We stood in the living room for a while, talking and laughing, because, again, he’s a total goof. He told me stories of his fiancĂ© and how he got the ring and it was really adorable because he just loves her so much!

Then, I’m not sure what line of conversation got him to this, but he was suddenly in front of me, pointing his finger in my face, as he told me how great I was. And I tried to roll my eyes and laugh him off, but he refused to be put off. He kept saying all of this nice stuff about me, a lot of which I don’t remember now.

Part of me refused to even listen (which is probably why I don’t remember a lot of what he said) because I don’t believe it. Or I can’t believe it. Or I refuse to accept it. I don’t know.

But part of me really appreciated it. People just don’t talk like that, you know? They don’t give really personal and sincere compliments. I mean, surface level and slightly deeper compliments, sure. Of course. But real compliments? The kind that compliment you as a person? Your character? Your heart? People just don’t do that.

Maybe we should.