The Life of Me - Blog Book 2 (Under Editting)

What I Wish My Friends Knew

Dear All My Friends. Close friend, new friend, it doesn't matter, just listen.

We all have some sort of friend in our lives, school friends being the first most think about. Don't get me wrong, friends are amazing - people in general are amazing! But... But I just wish my friends all knew what it's like to be me- to be someone like me.

I have undiagnosed anxiety and depression. I say "undiagnosed" because my parents and family don't believe in mental disorders, so I've never stepped foot in a doctor's office. To them, in this entire world, there are only sane and insane people. Only.

Having anxiety attacks are the worst things to happen to me. Just last week, I had a gymnastics routine for PE, but I knew I couldn't do it. Through the whole time, the whole 5 minutes, I was having an anxiety attack. I couldn't leave, because I was scared of what my parents would say if they got a report that I ran out of the gym in the middle of the routine. I told my friends about this and they laughed... I wasn't kidding when I said I was terrified. I didn't say anything else...

The whole time I was sweating and shaking and wishing I was at home and wishing I had a blade to slit my wrists for thinking I could do this. I was thinking that everyone would laugh at me. When it was over, I sat at a wall away from my friends and classmates. I realized that no one laughed but my friends. Now, don't tell me it's a normal thing for friends to laugh at each other, because they don't know anything about my mind. The mind of a person that can't get help-Who doesn't even ask for help. I've never told anyone. Actually, that's a lie, I've told everyone, but no one has helped. Hell, one of my friends started talking about her depression and anxiety when we were supposed to be talking about mine and how to help me... But I realized her reasons she's depressed and has anxiety were worse than mine, so I closed my mouth. My problems didn't matter because hers were worse. Hers were way-way worse than mine. I dont talk about it anymore.

I'm not saying she can't talking about her problems, I'm saying no one should care about my problems because hers and so many others have it worse. Mine don't matter! That's why I only help you guys! My problems don't matter, my cuts don't matter, the blade in my pocket is nothing! My problems are nothing because I'm not worth as much as you guys. I see my depressed best friend, who I'd grown to love, as a famous musician, I see my "loli" friend and my depressed friend married, I see my bookworm friend in college with top marks, and her... The one from earlier... I see her out here where I've always wanted to be... On news channels- On magazines- On books- On a stage. An activist to secure everyone's rights to be equal. I can't be there. I don't see myself there, all I see is the kid no one liked in highschool, who dropped out of school with rumors of drug use when really they couldn't deal with the fact everyone is moving on, the kid in the locker room... The one with the scars all over their body.

I don't want to be known that way, but I know that it's true. There is no bright future for me, I'll probably be gone by my senior prom, because God decided to hate me because of what I believe in. The kids at school don't like me because the girls at school didn't like "Voltron: Legendary Defenders" with a passion like I did, because the boys said I was physically female so I couldn't play video games, and because all the LGBTQ+ kids thought I was too negative.

Don't worry about me because it doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter because I don't matter.

Don't tell me I do because I know that's a lie. People have a tendency to lie to me all the time. The counselor at school said I was "fine", my mom said I'm "crazy", my cousin said it's a "phase". A phase, huh? Then why does this have to be the worst one? Why isn't it going away? I've been in this "phase" for over two years now and nothing has changed.

Don't worry about my problems because so many other people need more help than I do. It's ok if you feel guilty, because I feel guilty everytime I make you guys worry. I don't want to recover. Depression is a childhood friend of mine and anxiety are their cousin who decided to come along for the playdate. Don't worry about me, go worry about someone else. My problems aren't worth your time.

Sincerely,
You-Know-Who

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Congratulations, if you read this entire personal essay, you're one of the first people to read a small speech I'll be putting on YouTube. When I'm done recording and making the video, I'll notify all of you to make sure you guy get to see it.