A letter to my lifelong adversary, Depression.
One day, when you come knocking on my door like you always do, I won’t be there. You won’t be able to control me. I won’t let you in no matter how strong of a force you have always been. I won’t let you hurt me time and again. You won’t be able to mess with my mind with your hellish games.
One day, when you try to sabotage the progress I’ve been making, I won’t be there. You won’t be able to tell me what a piece of garbage I am. I will finally believe that I am better and can do better. You will whisper, “Why bother doing anything when you’re so useless?”. And I will leave your grim voice behind as I’m walking away, making plans to take care of myself.
One day, when you pay me a visit bearing my past as a gift, I won’t be there. You won’t be able to haunt me with my traumas. I will finally heal and make peace with the old me. I will be new again. Reborn. You will think I’m lying like I always did. But for once, I will truly mean it.
Today, you still have a hold of me. I’d still crumble like a piece of paper, letting you in unwillingly. I’d still let you torture me, making me believe the worst of myself. I’d still let you keep me up many nights thinking about my trauma, reminding me that I’d never heal. I’d still let you shake me to my very core, pushing me over the edge of a cliff because I’m not strong enough to keep on living.
But one day, despite how long it might take, I won’t be there to let you in. I will finally move on, leaving you in the dust.
