• love's child •

• clinically depressed / suicide •

"You have clinical depression."

I blink once, twice.

It's true.

"We will provide you and your guardian with documents to sign up for therapy. Your insurance will cover twenty percent of it. Please read the fine print for details, and don't forget to schedule your next appointment at the front."

It's all true.

~

"Mom, you have to understand!"

"Stop talking, Malela! It's stupid and pathetic. It's a made up thing you're using as an excuse! You are not going to be acting like a snoopy little brat in my house!" her mother screamed.

"But M-"

"Go to your room, Malela!" her mother orders, pointing again wuth her finger. "I don't want to talk to you right now."

"Mom, I get hurt enough at school! Why must you be the same?! I'm your dauhter! You're supposed to love and support me!"

"I will when you're worth love and support, now GO TO YOUR ROOM!"

~

"Hi, Malela! I'm Dr. Shan, nice to meet you, sweetie." Dr. Shan shook hands with her as she sat down.

Doctor. I'm sick. There's things wrong with me. I need fixing. All the rumors and lies and fibs are true.

I just sat down without looking at her. I don't want to be here.

"So, tell me why you're here." Dr. Shan smiles with false stupidity.

"Isn't it obvious?" I say in a shy, non-rude way, refusing to make eye contact.

"Well, everyone's life is different, everyone's circumstances vary." the older female replies.

That isn't wrong...

"I don't know," I say "I didn't even think I had it until I was diagnosed."

"And you were diagnosed in August, correct?"

"Don't you have it on file?"

"Just making sure."

I don't respond.

"So, Malela. How's middle school?"

I don't reply.

"Malela, if you expect help, you need to be cooperative. Answer my questions. How's middle school going for you?"

~

"I hate this, Matt." I say to the phone.

"It'll get better, May. It's just exhausting at first. Trust me." he replies.

"I know, it's just irritating. I mean, my mom might even pull me out."

"What? Why?"

"She thinks I'm faking it, or that I'm living a delusion."

"Wow. Petty."

"Exactly..."

"But hey, there's always online services."

"Don't you have to pay for those, though?"

"Most, but there's some you don't. I'll forward you some links."

"Thanks, Matt."

~

Suicide.

It's so easy, yet I'm an overthinker, so I sit here and contemplate it for hours on end anyway.

I wonder what it feels like to die--if you feel anything. Better yet, what does it feel like to be dead?

I wonder if your life flashes before your eyes--even though mine isn't worth seeing. But hey... it'll be ending.

I wonder if it'll hurt. Will I even sense it? Is it gonna be too painful? How quick? Is it the last thing I will be conscious of?

What will my mother say? Do? I'll still feel bad, even if I shouldn't. Will it go on the news? On the first day of school, will my teachers announce it? Will there be a funeral? Will I be cremated, or buried? Will they dress me up in clothes I never liked to wear? Will they care what I was even like?

Will the bullies pick someone new? Will they cry and kill themselves too? Since it's mostly their fault, anyway.

I wonder what it's like to feel your heart giving out... Unable to breathe... It's hard enough as it is, anyway.

I wonder how I'll do it. Knife? Jumping? Poison that probably won't work?

Maybe if I do it at the right time, and the right place, it'll go unnoticed. Or maybe, no one would be able to find me. Will I feel shame?

Maybe I should stop wondering, and just...

Maybe I should figure out for myself what suicide is like.

~

Matt sent me links. I ignored the messages. Mom pulled me out of therapy. The bullies never cease to harrass.

Maybe just...