Depression settles in, to my bones, my skin, my mind, and I greet it like
an old friend. It has played a mean trick—leaving me alone with anxiety for so
long that I’m relieved at its return. The buzzing veins and shaking hands of
anxiety are gone for the moment, but without all the heaviness and lethargy of
anti-anxiety meds. I never thought I’d be grateful to see the Empty come back,
but I am. Its familiarity is comforting in a strange way.
But it is not comforting, being back to bleary eyes and a tired heart,
back to mornings where I can’t get out of bed and afternoons where I can’t eat
and evenings when I can’t focus.
The thing about depression is that it doesn’t care how inconvenient it is
for it to return, in the middle of midterms and ten hour shifts at the pool, in
the middle of looking for you. And it won’t magically start caring about its
interruptions once you are in my life either. Boys don’t solve depression.
There will be days where I’m distant, times when I feel so empty that I
hide in myself. I don’t love you any less on those days. And I don’t need you
to come charging in to the rescue on those days either.
Mostly I just need you to be patient, to wait for me to come back to you.
It may take longer than both of us would like, but I will always come back.
Please be steady and know that I love you.
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