The worst part about being so depressed is that when you have such a horrible past week where you have to acknowledge that a fellow classmate who you knew died, that you had to put your cat to sleep, that you crashed into a crosswalk on a bike, fell down the stairs, fell out of your bed and ripped out a toenail, have received two failing marks on quizzes, and yet you still have to go to class and take your oral midterm even though your partner texted you the night before to tell you he had to drop out of school and return home, and turn in those 50 thumbnails and roughs you were assigned last minute because telling your professors that you feel depressed doesn’t cut it for them. That even if you literally cannot make yourself eat or shower or even put on a bra to go to class, you still have to take that oral exam you never got to prepare for because you never saw that partner who suddenly left campus.
Everything is a mess and I am depressed. and Rightfully so. I’ve always been told that I’m not depressed, or I have no reason to be, or to just get happy.
But dammit, for once in my life I get to sit here and justify my reasoning to be depressed to everyone who is close minded and doesn’t believe there’s ever a reason to be depressed.
So please stop yelling at me that I’m not going to bed on time. Please stop yelling at me that I’m not getting out of bed for class. Please stop telling me to put a bra on, and PLEASE stop yelling at me because I don’t feel up to going out to your damn corn maze with you because I hardly have the energy and motivation to stare at my computer screen and log into my email.