I can't "mind over matter" this ****. You can't do that with an illness. Growing up the way I did, it was always seen as an "excuse to be lazy". "I think that I'm dying inside, running from the echo but there's no place to hide." I am dependent upon others and medical marijuana to keep myself out of bed and to avoid complete shutdown. Admitting I cannot fight this by myself anymore is the most difficult thing I've had to come to terms with. I was always told this wasn't real. How can something so fake hurt so much?

I well and truly hate myself. "If depression was a sea then I would've already drowned." It takes over and I'm too weak to fend it off. I hate it. I hate that I have to rely on others. I hate that I break down. I hate that I want to die. If only my dad understood that. If only he understood that I hate this more than he can ever imagine. If only he didn't think I was weak because I need help.

If only....