Down Low

I’m not sure what happened after that, although, I am aware that my progression into depression was a slow one. If anything, I can explain it a bit like this: It was as if whatever wall that was standing in the way of all the terrible shit I’ve dealt with started to finally crumble down. Right now, there are gaping holes in my stability. Every other minute it feels as if I may just completely corrode and flow away into the wind like dust. I am seriously not looking forward to when that unfortunately happens. So, I’m avoiding any possible catalysts at all costs.

For the past three weeks now, I’ve been hiding out in my room like an escaped convict, avoiding all questions and turning the opposite direction of any suspicious looks. I’ve managed to successfully evade any family time with my father and Lily. They’ve been so overjoyed with the news that they’ve been inseparable. It’s almost as if they’ve fallen even more in love, and that just is way too much to handle at the moment. Not like they notice me anyway. Alex has stopped by a few times. I pretended like I was asleep, but I’m pretty sure he’s catching on now. The others have called me twice, I believe – trying to make plans. But either way, call me crazy, I don’t feel like being around people who don’t even really like me. What’s the point?

So, I’ve holed myself up in my room…listening to music, reading books, sketching…just trying to do anything but think about how my world is falling apart. I haven’t cut since the night I found out Robbie and Lily were having a baby. My willpower is pretty strong, but even now, I can feel the itch creep up my wrists. It would just be so damn easy to end it all. I’d be at peace and finally rid of all the hurt I have asphyxiating my chest. And I don’t know if I’m just a strong person, or if I’m slightly masochistic, but I don’t see offing myself as an option just yet.

Today, for some reason, it felt like there was something else I wasn’t picking up on. I walked around the house all day, picking at toast, chewing on ice, and staring at my sad reflection. I just couldn’t put my finger on it. It wasn’t until I banged my foot on an unopened box in my room, that I realized what it was. As I opened the box and leafed through old photo albums and keepsakes, I began to cry.

I was homesick.