"What's wrong?"

By Annie Petersen

How It feels

You know, when you think of depression, cutting, suicide, what do you think of? Do you think of how cowardly people are? Now think of this. You're screaming at the top of your lungs, drowning underwater, yet no one can hear you. You know you need help, but you can't tell anyone due to the fear of what they'll think of you, your afraid of getting help because those who help will only put you through worse. They'd ask the famous question of "what's wrong?" As they noticed I wasn't eating again. I'd always come up with excuses.

This memoir is still apart of my life. Depression doesn't just go away. Every single day someone tells me something I already know about myself. That I'm fat. I'm ugly. I'm stupid. I should kill myself. Then that one night, third week of sixth grade, Tuesday, I tried.

One pill, two pill, three pill, four...

I won't go into too gruesome detail. I took a bottle of pills and a bottle of water, I took my dog out of his cage in the garage and brought him in the house and onto the couch, violating more house rules that I can think of. I downed the pills as my dog curled up on my lap allowing me to pet his back as my tears hit his fur. My Samsung little orange phone blared vibration after vibration, not phasing me of how many text messages I was getting from the people who pretended to be my friend. I kissed Charley's head and sighed heavily getting sleepy. I laid down on the couch taking in every last detail of my life, of the living room, of my dog. And then I wanted to go to sleep. So I did.

But I woke up.

Depression doesn't just go away.

Life going on

I didn't want to wake up. Not at all. At a mere ten years old I wanted to die. That wasn't right. No one other than those who I said goodbye to know of this encounter. That's why I get so scared sharing things like this, because people think that I'm like that today. Yes I struggle with depression, yes I used to be anorexic and yes I will still sometimes skip lunch just because you can't quit cold turkey. Yes I cut myself all through seventh and eighth grade, yes I have scars. YES, I have gotten better. Yes, I'm okay now. No, nothing's wrong.