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Changed.

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.

-Melissa

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Dissection.

Dissect me of myself.

Pull me apart and embed yourself inside of me and scoop away all of the unwanted, unneeded filth that rests in my bones. Empty me of the blood that runs through my veins and fill it with your own. Remove my heart and order a transplant for something better. Something that more closely resembles you.

I am not satisfied with the person I am: so self consumed. Rid me of myself. Take away my thoughts and fill my head with yours.

I don’t want to be my own person. All I want to do is reflect You.

-Melissa

People.

People amaze me. Their capabilities amaze me. They captivate me, intrigue me, and fascinate me. They also anger, disgust, and horrify me.

But that’s why they are so interesting.

You have the ability to make someone understand the word love. You also have the ability to make them wrestle with hatred. You can bring comfort with your touch or pain. You can steady someone with your silence or unsettle them with it.

And people are beautiful. Honest to goodness, absolutely gorgeous. The color of someone’s eyes, the curve of their lips, the crease between their eyebrows. Fascinating. And as cliche as it sounds, so beautifully unique that it’s breathtakingly striking.

I really wish I was good at some kind of art. I really wish I could look at someone and sketch them accurately. I wish I could sculpt people and freeze a moment of time. I wish I could take good pictures consistently and frame the beauty I see all around me.

People amaze me. The rise and fall of their voice as they speak. The sound of their laughter filling the air around me. And nonverbal communication- goodness, utterly captivating when you really think about it.

I don’t know what to think of us… Honestly horrible creatures with a beauty that simply enchants.

-Melissa