I deal with depression a lot. Not of my own, but of others close to me. They say it’s easy when you don’t feel depression and it is, sure, but when you’re dealing with someone who is depressed, it’s tough. I mean, I have fears that what if one day they will do it, you know, take their own lives? You’re careful with every little thing that you do because you need to ‘handle’ or ‘treat’ them differently and carefully.
My first exposure was when I was 16. He was severely depressed and had attempted suicide more than 5 times. He told me I shouldn’t be his friend because people he knew would always leave and I did, eventually. I had to. He was pulling me down, draining every energy that I have, mentally abusing me with his need to own me even if I lived half across the world from me. I don’t know if he’s still alive today. I don’t think he is, to be honest. He has so much hate in him, so much anger, it’s scary. He showed me a song he composed on his piano. It was haunting, painful and angry. I cried at the end after listening to it because I was so scared. It’s stupid when I think about it now, but I was genuinely terrified. That was when I decided I had enough of him and needed to move on. He was a lost cause and I was losing myself if I stayed with him.
I hated that though – lost cause. But I didn’t have a choice. He has dug himself too deep and was pulling me in. I had to crawl out of the hole and breathe again..
I got to know I have many friends, the most cheerful ones, have suicidal tendencies and that scares me. I see through them all the time, though how much they try to hide it. I see it in their eyes. The sadness masked by happy, smiley faces. I know that at any time, they would just… Snap. Like my teacher. Like my friend’s brother. Like my aunt. They all snapped.
I wish they know that I am here for them and when they feel at their lowest, I am here to listen to them.