Remember Me

I know it’s not easy to see me.  Sometimes it’s not easy to see myself.  I can stand in front of the mirror for hours, and still not recognize the girl on the outside.

It’s easy to forget that others forget.  I wish it weren’t like that.  With depression and anxiety, I often get left behind.  I’m not fit to be a server, so I’m put at the hostess stand, making barely enough money to cover student loans.  I’m not fit to live alone, because I might get lonely.  I’m not fit to blog honestly, because it may impact my future job search.  Because no one wants to hear the truth.  No one wants to remember me.

Everyone wants to forget.  But why?  What does my depression and anxiety have to do with my ability to work?  Why does everything have to be cold, and unacknowledged?

I spent five days in the hospital for a condition I’ve had since high school.  That’s nine years of putting my mental illness at the wayside for everyone else.  “What’s wrong with you?” she would say.  “Why can’t you just be normal?”

So I suppress it.  I begin to think I don’t fit in this world.  I begin to believe it.  I begin to act on it.

I forget to remember me, just like all of you.

I fade away.

 

Trying to remember how to smile at the beginning of my suicidal stage.

 

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