Dear Austin,

I’ve always had an underlying depression. I never let it bother me though, at least, not at first. I thought everyone felt similar to how I did. I knew everyone got sad sometimes, and that made me feel better.

As I got older and my life started to fall apart, that underlying depression ate away at me. I tried to control it, but when the person who is supposed to love you and protect you tells you that you’re not good enough, when you’re truly all alone, the depression sort of becomes you. I began self harming at the age of 12, trying to find solace by pressing a blade into my skin.

When I was eleven years old, my parents divorced. Their relationship was never healthy- my dad hit my mom and my mom was mentally ill and just as violent to him- but that didn’t stop me from begging them not to split up. My mother and I moved far away from friends and family, to a city that was nothing like the small town I had lived in before. I am still haunted by the things that happened when I was with her. Her illness had become her; there was nothing left of the mother I once had. Despite all the things that she did to me, I still feel inherently guiltily. Guilty, because I was not good enough to take care of her and me, not good enough to make her want to get better.

People like me thrive off of pity and self despair. This chapter of my life I’m living isn’t just a chapter anymore. I’m 18 years old, and I’ve been living this way since I was 12 years old.

The depression becomes an addiction, you feel guilty for being happy -and that’s how I feel. I’ve been so sad for a long time. I don’t feel good enough. I don’t feel up to par with what the world is offering. I don’t feel good enough for this world.

I’m not saying that everyday is completely terrible. There’d be long periods were everything was fine, and then it would turn into hell. Days I can’t get myself out of bed. Days I can’t bathe, eat or take care of myself; the addiction to feeling numb and being depressed is all I have. I’d tell my family that I was better, but I wasn’t. It is a simple thing, I say it every few months, but the depression, the pills, the self harm, they pull me down.

People used to send me hate because I like Of Mice & Men, but I talk about you most. They don’t understand that before I ever found Of Mice & Men, I found you. People talked of a guy who has been through so much, and still goes through everyday with a smile on his face. A guy who has the biggest heart and the kindest things to say. I found you and listened to what you had to say, read what you’ve been through, and I immediately fell in love- in a platonic way of course. I look up to you, and what you say has helped me get through some pretty shitty times, Austin. If I hadn’t found you I would have never given Of Mice & Men a chance.

I’m writing this to you because I need a release. I don’t find enjoyment in the company of others, and honestly, no one can really stand how withdrawn and somber I’ve become lately. I don’t find enjoyment in drawing. I can’t even enjoy listening to music anymore. I’m grasping at straws. This isn’t a suicide note- I don’t want to die. I just don’t want to feel like this anymore. I used to have a friend that would say, “If Austin could get through this, then you can get through self harm.” I’ve long since stopped talking to that friend, but I still use what she said.

I want to thank you for living life like you do. I know you’re not perfect, and I do not put you on a pedestal. But you have helped me, you still help me, and I’m eternally grateful for it. I hope to one day I can be done with all of this, and go through the rest of my life and cherish it, just like you do.

Always,

Lyssa