trigger warning: everything.

They give you medicine and you hope that all the bad will just go away, that you'll be able to call your advisor, that you'll be able to eat like a regular person, that you'll be able to throw out razorblades, that you'll sleep through the night.

But things aren't magically better. You still have depression and it still paralyzes you sometimes. You still go to bed at five o clock on bad days, while your parents think you're doing schoolwork you never do. You still can't clean up the clothes at the end of the bed. You still skip dinner when you can get away with it. You still feel overwhelmed by an appointment or Starbucks or eye contact. 

Now with certain people, it's all okay. You've always felt fine with them; they're safe. They make you smile. And in defense of the doctors, before the medicine, you couldn't even leave your house to see these wonderful people. So things are better. 

I think it's still so sad and awful sometimes because nothing is really different. Your brain chemistry, sure, that's changed. But homophobia, misogyny, rape, war, ignorance, all of that still exists. And you're a daily contributor and enabler to so many of these things. You've got a lot of words but how can you DO anything when you can hardly drag yourself to class for half the week?

I'm just a little sad right now. I know it will feel better soon.Today I just feel windpipe-crushingly anxious and rib-crackingly alone.

So I look at pretty girls on Tumblr because for a long time that's the only place I could be gay. So I take a short nap. So I hang up a shirt. I type a sentence or two of that paper. I talk about depression with people, I don't let it become a shadow that looms and leers and tells me I'm shitty and alone. I hope maybe being open helps someone else and that makes me feel a little bit nice.

Things will get better, I know it.

But I'm sorry if I suck for a few days while I'm working on it.

And even though my mom wouldn't believe that sometimes I just wanted to stop existing, someone told me thankyou for not dying. And even though my mom gets nervous that I dress like a lesbian, someone is willing to look queer with me. And even though people don't always text back, sometimes they do. Even though yesterday was bad, today doesn't have to be. So it's alright, really, I know it'll be okay.

The medicine didn't make everything better. But it helped me notice that things aren't so bad. It helped me WANT to be better. It ate away the apathy and it lightened the sensation of drowning when I thought about the future.

I don't often believe in god or church or people, but I believe in beauty again.

Yeah, it'll be okay.