I’ve never been extremely depressed and I have never felt extremely irrelevant. I was at really low to the point I actually contemplated about many, God forbid, ways to die. I even wrote terrible things. Really terrible and scary things.
Now, I am completely sane and feeling more relevant. I have only realized that what I did and thought the whole time I was down were scary. I am frightened right, now at what I could have written, said, thought, and done if I had not told anyone about it. I may have written quite some offensive things like the abortion story my mother told me when I was thirteen.
And I had even wished to die at that very moment.
I even thought of the ideal atmosphere my death would happen.
But after an exchange of text messages between me and two of my closest friends that I trust so much I was able to realize that if my family doesn’t have my back, I have these two particular friends with me.
At the end of that day, I was able to write this and I don’t know how to feel exactly about it:
After the super typhoon tragedy in November 8, 2013, I decided I wasn’t going to die in some less tragic event. Dying of depression is more tragic than the typhoon because you’re battling with yourself, with your demons, every single day of your life. That’s very tragic because you are defeated by your very self. It’s so damn poetic. Someone should totally write a ballad or an epic about these struggles.
I may have discovered a rather scary and depressive side of myself. This shit is now real.