You’re not helping

“Depression is a decision, just get over it!”

Thanks for telling me that I’m just hungry for attention and not allowed to function below the normal level. Why do I keep these people around me?

“I hope you get better!”

What? This would be appropriate to say if I came to school on friday with a cold and a mild fever; it would be possible to recover before we see again on monday. But I don’t have the flu or even a broken bone, I have a broken mind. When did you plan to see me the next time, in two years?

“You can talk to me any time you feel like you need it mate! You can always call me!” etc. etc.

Don’t. Just fucking don’t. This is, almost unfailingly, the answer I hear when I tell someone about my mental problems. And almost unfailingly it is a meaningless bubble of words, as these people want to talk like a good person but don’t understand what they’re promising. And it comes as a surprise to them if their phone rings and a distressed being needs help: “Oh, umm, sorry I can’t today I gotta do my laundryandhomeworkanddishesand…

“I’m tired of your problems and sad face!”

Yeah, me too. I can’t help it. You don’t have to.

“We were that close to not caring and leaving your drunken ass on the street”

Thanks for appreciating my welfare. This is what close friends are for. Maybe I can learn my worth from your example.


~ by Ndprs on February 9, 2012.

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