In the Rearview Read online

  Unsure

  Unsure of the path I’m seeing

  Unsure of the life I’m leading

  Don’t know what to do

  Don’t know how to do it

  Too many mistakes made

  Too much time when I was unsure

  Unsure of what I do

  Unsure of what is said

  Unsure of who I am

  The Pictures On The Wall

  They look at me and laugh

  They mock me

  Night and day

  They don’t know when I’ve had enough

  They don’t understand

  How much I hurt inside

  They make me cry

  As they laugh

  Maybe if I talk to them

  They’d try to understand

  The pictures on the wall

  They’re always watching me

  And they’ll never understand

  Who Can That Be

  Who can that be

  Staring straight back at me

  Eyes so dull

  And hair quite limp

  She doesn’t look fed

  She looks tired

  And needs to go to bed

  She doesn’t look happy

  But not quite sad

  Emotionless

  Never getting mad

  People say rude and mean things

  She never talks back

  She’s never rude back

  She doesn’t cry

  Although her self esteem

  Is not super high

  Who is this girl

  With no life at all

  She’s living in a world

  That’s no world at all

  To everyone else

  She’s so small

  She doesn’t speak up

  Nor does she respond

  She’s a dull lifeless robot

  And has formed

  With no one

  Any special bonds

  Who is this girl

  Staring back at me

  Who can it be

  Why when I look closer

  I start to realize

  That sad hopeless

  Girl is me

  Staring into a mirror

  Back at pathetic old me

  Secrets

  I hide so many things

  Behind my layer of armor

  I use to shield my pain

  My feelings are hidden

  My friends and family don’t even know

  I hope they never do

  I hold so many secrets

  Can never let them go

  Getting There

  I’m getting there

  I can tell I’m close

  And all along the way

  I worsen my life

  I hate the way I look and feel

  And everything I do

  On the way to the real thing

  I hate and love what I do

  I’m getting there

  I can tell I’m close

  Depression is not far away

  Dear Diary,

  Something is new, but not good new. Not only am I always upset, but now I’ve also been super tired lately.

  Actually I’m constantly exhausted.

  I have no idea what’s going on with me. One bad thing follows another. It’s possible for me to sleep ten hours at night, and when I get home from school, I will feel I can’t get anything done, or even start my homework, before I get in a nap. And my naps aren’t short. They last for hours at a time.

  I will lie on the couch for huge chunks of time, stretch out, taking up all the space just watching TV. After my nap I feel like a lump, a waste of space, with nothing better to do than be lazy. Then dinner is ready, a few more TV shows, and I’m back to bed.

  I sleep more than I ever used to, and yet it never seems to be enough.

  I’m great at being lazy. Right now it might be my hobby, the thing I’m best at. What a talent. Luckily, my homework isn’t suffering. But thankfully, that has always come easily to me. I still get every assignment done when it is due, between naps, and the answers are correct. Maybe that’s why nothing seems off to anyone else. Looking like I care is easy; I know how to do that. But none of it is ever interesting to me either. Yet no one notices how I’ve changed.

  Like I said, I’m not worried about my grades or school at all. I get everything turned in, interesting or not. At least that keeps everyone off my back about all of the sleeping. If I can get an A, then there is nothing wrong with me, right? Apparently.

  I’ve wondered lately, if things get worse, will I still be able to go unnoticed? Maybe I can fly under the radar, no matter how bad things get internally, if I keep the external version of myself socially acceptable. No one wants to be brought down by someone else’s problems, right? At least that’s how it seems.

  Ugh. I’m getting tired again. This exhaustion never goes away.

  Maybe I’ll write more after my nap.

  The Real Thing

  How do you define depression

  To some it’s a way of life

  And to others just a thing

  Never to be dealt with

  It can be a person

  The darkness

  Or a figure in the midst ever moving

  Never close enough to conquer

  How do you define the real thing

  Sleep

  I can’t get enough

  I always want more

  When my head hits the pillow

  In an instant I’m beyond gone

  Lights out

  Oblivious and unconscious

  All I want is more sleep

  Because when I’m there

  Somewhere in dream land

  Fast asleep

  Nothing matters

  I’m not sad

  I’m not a disappointment

  I’m just floating through

  Always wanting

  More sleep

  Better Off

  I know you are

  Most certainly

  And undeniably

  Better off

  Without me

  You are more capable

  To love

  You are more honest

  And better in general

  At being what someone

  Needs and deserves

  I am broken

  Beaten

  Standing on one leg

  Only half my heart beating

  I know you put forth

  More effort

  And genuine love

  While I continue to

  Make mistakes

  And ruin what I have

  But that is who I am

  And until I find

  The one who makes me

  A better person

  That is how I will stay

  So as hard as it is to say

  You should move on

  Be without me

  Because you are certainly

  Better off that way

  Take The Time

  Life’s so busy

  No time to slow down

  Always rushing

  Never stopping to look around

  And appreciate life how it is

  And we rush

  Without stopping

  We miss opportunities

  And there’s nothing worse

  Than looking back

  And regretting something

  You did or didn’t do

  Meagan stared down at her desk. Her focus moved beyond the assignment in front of her without actually seeing what she was looking toward. There were lines, spaces of white, and blobs of writing, but nothing seemed important enough to consider closely. Truthfully she didn’t care.

  She didn’t feel the need to focus.

  Her gaze slowly moved up to the front of the classroom, and again she fixated on a point past what was before her. She didn’t concentrate on the teacher. There was a face, a moving mouth, but she didn’t connect it with the sounds st
ruggling slowly, like sticky sludge past her ears. She didn’t hear the instructions being uttered; each word fell on deaf ears as she mindlessly doodled.

  Twisting her hair around her finger, she thought about how nice it would be to be at home, in bed, with the curtains closed instead of in this loud and hyper school. It seemed her classmates had recently started caring too much about what was going on around them. There was too much drama, too much noise, too much concern jumping all around her. It was all so taxing.

  It was such a bother.

  Meagan, in contrast, was usually in a world of her own. Her head felt fuzzy most of the time, and unless she used a lot of energy, most conversations sounded muffled, like there was cotton in her ears. She didn’t feel the need to engage anymore. Her desire to try so hard just to do what had once come easily had dwindled to nothing. At first she’d tried, but not now. Not anymore. It had become too difficult to care.

  And that was her biggest problem. Meagan didn’t care much about any of these changes. She was fine walking through school without any effort. Her feet felt a little heavier as each day passed, and her head felt a little more under pressure of a crushing fog that numbed her, but she pushed through it all. She didn’t mind neglecting what used to bring her excitement. In fact, it was just easier not to give a crap.

  Everything was distinctly lackluster these days.

  ****

  She was startled by a loud cough and her focus snapped back up. Several of her classmates were looking toward her, and so was her teacher. Others were looking down with embarrassment for her.

  “Meagan?”

  Yep, she had definitely missed something. “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question.”

  These were the only times Meagan cared about her inattention. Her cheeks warmed, and her blood pressure spiked. Flustered, she glanced to her fingers, fidgeting and twisting around each other in her lap.

  “Please pay better attention.” There was no anger in her voice, but Meagan did detect a note of disappointment.

  “Okay.” She didn’t add anything else.

  There was nothing to add anyway. She didn’t apologize because, honestly, she wasn’t sorry she hadn’t been listening. Embarrassment in getting caught was the only reason to be sorry. And she hadn’t been doing anything worth using as an excuse. So she kept her lips buttoned and tried to make it through the rest of class.

  ****

  She shuffled to her locker with a limited burst of enthusiasm, but it was only due to the understanding that the school day was over and she could go home to sit alone.

  “Hi!”

  Meagan’s excitement immediately deflated as if a pin had pricked a hole into its thin and delicate structure.

  “Do you want to hang out this weekend?”

  Sarah, her longtime friend, bounced on her toes next to Meagan’s locker with a genuine smile that reached her eyes, adding a sparkle. Meagan didn’t know the last time her own smile had touched her eyes. Had it ever? She couldn’t remember anymore.

  She didn’t want to make plans with anyone, even Sarah. Every time she did, she would cancel them last minute. Just the thought of going out in public, even to do something as simple as shopping, exhausted Meagan before she had the chance to leave the house. Her stomach got queasy and her eyes felt puffy when she was supposed to be with others but needed to be alone. These reactions were happening more and more, which was why she was spending so much time in just her own company. And though no one had said anything yet, Meagan suspected a few of her close friends had begun to notice her continued absence.

  Or maybe they hadn’t. Maybe they didn’t care.

  It was possible no one ever cared.

  “Umm… yeah, I probably can.” Meagan agreed to it, with a noted lack of interest, so she would not have to face the criticism or disappointment on Sarah’s face if she declined. But Meagan would most likely cancel later, over instant message or on the phone, when she wasn’t looking directly at Sarah. It was always easier to be a disappointment when you didn’t have to see the look of it.

  “Great! We haven’t hung out in… I don’t even know how long. Forever!”

  Sarah’s cheerful tone began to grate against Meagan’s nerves. She felt the sudden urge to get away before she said or did something she would regret. The abrupt anger startled her. Sarah had done nothing wrong. Meagan probably just needed to go home and nap.

  “Okay, well, call me. I gotta go.” Meagan spun around and headed to the bus that would take her to her comfortable world alone at home. There she could relax, and no one would care or notice her inability to care.

  Stuck

  Thick and sticky

  Pulls me down

  Deep

  Heavy with baggage

  Bogged down

  And foggy

  Cannot come up for air

  Cannot get away

  Paralyzed with pain

  Stuck inside

  Trying to get out

  Let Me In

  You don’t have to tell me

  But when you don’t it hurts

  And every time you lie to me

  You kill something inside

  I want to love you

  But when you don’t trust me

  I can’t be in your life

  And although I want to

  You have to begin to tell me

  More of what you feel

  Close But No Cigar

  I’ve always been close

  Never chosen first

  Never always right

  Average is what I am

  Someone is always better

  And few are ever worse

  I’m always close

  But never close enough

  Dear Diary,

  I’m not exactly sure when I became depressed, but I’m sure now that I am. Though I understand the progression was slow and building, it feels anything but. It seems as if I've been thrown down, hard to the ground quickly by a bully, big and heavy, and now I’m being held there against my will.

  There is no end in sight.

  Little things seem to bother me a lot more than they used to, even more than the pencil incident. Everything takes on a huge flare for the dramatic. Wait, let me correct that. The upsetting takes on a flare for the dramatic. Bad is worse. But happy things are never very exciting, instead they’ve leveled out. A lot feels different.

  I take everything more personally too; some people say I can’t take a joke anymore. Plus every little problem that arises is harder to face than it used to be. I think that’s because I hold on to more of the negative, so everything just builds up and up, without ever letting go or resetting. It all piles on top of the rest.

  Apparently, depression does that to you. Depression turns you into a drama queen who cries all the time. My eyes are puffy from crying.

  If I think about it harder, if I strain more than I want to, I can think of a few things that led up to this drowning feeling. I can piece together a few issues that began to fill my lungs with despair. But it still feels sudden even with excuses.

  Life got harder with the transition from elementary to middle school. I lost some friends I never expected to lose. Somehow we had just grown apart, and in the wake of their absence, I could feel the pressure of a huge void.

  All of a sudden these people I had come to depend on for support sneered at me and walked by without a word in the halls. They made fun of me behind my back and started nasty rumors about me. I wasn’t cool enough to be their friend any longer, and they clearly showed me why.

  That hurt.

  It stung more than I imagined it could. Though I never imagined they’d leave me either. Apparently I was too stupid not to realize who they were. I wish I hadn’t wasted so much time on people who were only going to betray my trust and friendship. But I can’t undo what’s already done.

  I have made new friends since, but it still hurts to see the old ones around and know they’ve abandoned me.

  Besides the friends I
’ve lost, I’m embarrassed to say I also seem to have terrible luck with guys. Everyone I’ve liked recently hasn’t felt the same for me. I have written notes, passed them along, and received lasting records of written rejections back. I can’t seem to throw them away either. Too often I look at their handwriting, telling me they just don’t like me.

  .

  Do you like me? Do you want to be my boyfriend?

  [ ] Yes or [ ] No?

  [ ] Yes or [X] No… Sorry

  .

  Their scribbled apologies are of no comfort either, so I should be able to get rid of them, but I can’t.

  Every time this happens I find myself staring in the mirror when I get home. I wonder if I’m ugly. I can’t help but wonder what’s wrong with me and what I should be changing. Why does no one choose me?

  I get picked on at school by some girls I used to call my friends, and I am invisible to the boys I can’t help but see. I find no solace or comfort at school, and I often wish to be home every second that I’m there. But when I get home, I tend to be equally disappointed.

  I can’t seem to make anyone happy anymore, not even myself.

  My sisters pick fights with me. Or maybe I pick fights with them. I can’t even tell anymore. But either way, we are fighting way more than we used to. Getting through an entire day without fighting with anyone has become impossible.

  I’ve been disappointing my parents a lot too. There’s always something I need to fix in their eyes. I talk back too much. I don’t help out around the house. No one is ever completely satisfied with me.

  And now that I feel like I can’t do anything right, at school or at home, every little hiccup feels like a mountain I must climb alone. It feels like staring at Everest from the bottom without support or even equipment to assist me to the top. Every time I say or do something wrong, I have the urge to crawl into a dark hole and be alone for such a long time.