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Saturday, 01 January 2000

Depression: A Monologue

Written by  Anonymous , age 16

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I am so alone.

Lucky there's a VCR in my room. I can watch Shakespeare in Love and watch Gyneth Paltrow fall in love. Nobody would fall in love with me, that's for sure. Ever.

I wish Mom would let the cleaning lady in my room. She says that I have to clean it up since it's so disgusting. I should deal with it. Well it's not so easy. I'm too tired. Where do I start?

I feel like I'm in a fog, a cloud I can't get out of. When I move, the air surrounds me like I'm walking through blue exhaust from a trailer truck. It's like I'm always walking up a hill that's too steep for me to handle. And nobody knows that I'm moving. My legs are going-- only I'm not getting anywhere.

That stupid father of mine. If only he was still here. But no he had to go with Janie and her kids. I don't even want to see him. And then I have to go to his house. I have nothing to say to him anymore. Nothing.

And mom with her law school, well isn't she the good student, isn't she the perfect girl. Her and Hillary Clinton. Ms. Perfect.

She thinks I should be in here reading books. Studying. Well I don't like books. And I don't like studying. Even if I study, I can't get good grades. The only thing I like is playing the computer which she has taken away until I clean my room.

She says she'll take me to the mall and buy me clothes. She doesn't know that I don't have the energy to get up and get dressed. I don't care what I wear. I'd rather be in pajamas anyway. It would take me hours to get moving. I can't even get up to walk the dog. I have to plan that after the movie, I'll get up. And then the movie is over. And I still can't get up. And I'm so tired. So comfortable, right here.

She says that I should go out with friends. How? How will I move from the house? Once I'm home on the school bus, and I close the door, and I grab food and go into my room alone and pull the covers over me, I finally feel a little better. All day, I wait to come home and collapse.

Mom thinks I'm lazy and moody. Just cause she wakes up like Ms. Sunshine. I hate when she shakes my leg to wake me up. I don't want to get out of the bed. I don't want to go to school. I don't want to go on the bus. I don't want to go outside.

It's terrible to have a mother who is so perfect. She thinks that just because she's Ms. Law School, Ms. Long nails, and Ms. Perfect House-- that I should be too.

She thinks it's so easy to do well. Well it's not. Just because her best friend's daughter got 100 on her geometry test doesn't mean that I should.

I can hardly read the test. Who cares about it, anyway?

I'll be lucky if I finish high school. Not that it matters.

Last modified on Thursday, 14 April 2011 17:17
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