Depression is an insidious beast
I stagger into my apartment. It's really just an old duplex that no one has lived in longer than I've been on this side of the portal. My feet feel like I'm moving through deep mud, my legs feels like they're encased in lead, I feel heavy. It feels like a crushing weight is pushing down on me, slowly crushing me down into the floor, threatening to squish me flat.
Maybe it would be a good thing if something really heavy were to just suddenly fall on me. Then I wouldn't have to remember the looks of hurt and anger on my friends faces.
Sunset, what you said on your MyStable account was really mean. I thought you had changed. I'm sorry I thought you could be better. I'm sorry I was wrong.
Fluttershy's words echo in my head. The memory of those words and the look on her face stings like I've been cut with a thousand razors, then someone rubbed salt and lemon juice into the wounds.
I honestly thought you had changed for the better. I just--Gah! I can't even bear to look at you right now after all those beastly things you posted! I just--why don't you--I thought you had changed, but I guess I was wrong.
It's rare for Rarity to be so upset that she's at a loss for words. Still the memory of her words ,and the look of hurt and anger on her face stung like a lash across my back.
I thought you were done being a meanie, mean-pants.
Pinkie was never one to mince words or to be very articulate. Her magenta hair, normally a mess of gravity-defying curls, was drooping, not straight, but definitely lost much of its usual springy poofyness. The look of anger and hurt on her face hurt more than if someone punched me in the face.
Speaking of getting punched in the face. I bring up a hand and touch the swollen bruise that has currently become a shiner. Rainbow Dash was at a loss for words, she had unleashed a torrent of punches at me. Though I was able to fend off most of her punches, a single right cross slipped through my defenses, connected with my left eye and knocked me flat on my butt.
Dash! C'mon! Just--*grunt*--just back off. She ain't worth it. Now just go o'er there an' cool yer heels!
Applejack pulled Rainbow off and wrestled her back before she could kick and stomp me.
C'mon girls, let's get outa here. Ah guess a leopard caint change their spots.*puh-tew*
Applejack's face had the same level of hurt and anger as the other girls, mixed with disgust. Something she made very clear when she spat on the ground at my feet. She should've let Dash kick and stomp me to death.
As the girls walked away, I reached out with a hand and begged them to not leave me. When it became clear they weren't turning back, I buried my face in my hands and cried. Then I bolted, I just couldn't stay at school. Sure I could endure the bullying, insults and jibes from the other students, but having to endure the looks of pain and anger on my friends' faces was too much. I ran as hard as my legs could carry me to the bus stop, and when the bus that was travelling to the stop in my neighborhood pulled up, I used the small wad of loose bills in my pocket to pay the fair.
I force myself to walk across my apartment. The whole world seems grey and bleak and...lonely. Walking over to the couch, I flop onto it like a ton of bricks and wrap myself up in the blanket that's currently draped across the back. My vision goes blurry as my eyes sting. Something hot and moist forms rapidly cooling lines down my cheeks. There in the bathroom is a razor sitting in the medicine cabinet over the sink. It would be so easy to pick that blade up, carve deep lines down both of my wrists and let the pain fade as my life's blood drains out.
I pick up the remote and turn on the TV. I don't really care what's on, just something to create noise to distract me from the hurt inside and my own thoughts. There's a show on about nine friends who all live together, they all smile while making snarky remarks and witty comebacks, the canned laugh track gives the impression of an audience enjoying the joke. I don't really pay attention, it's just all background noise that distracts me.
I slump over on the couch and further wrap myself in the blanket. My eyelids grow heavy and I slip into sleep, no dreams, just an empty grey void.
My eyes open. It's dark now. An infomercial is playing on the TV for some useless piece of crap nobody asked for or needs. I unwrap myself from the blanket and get up to go to the bathroom and relieve myself. My clothes are wrinkled from sleeping on the couch in them. I didn't even bother to take my boots off when I laid down.
After finishing upon the toilet, I step in front of the sink to wash my hands. From the mirror an amber-skinned girl with red and blonde streaked hair stares back, her face is an emotionless mask, no sign of sorrow or anger or anything, just a blank emptiness. Her teal eyes lack the usual sparkle, they're just two pools of misery.
I walk into the kitchen, pull a glass from the cabinet, turn on the faucet and fill the glass with cool, clear liquid. My throat is dry, my mouth is parched, I stare at the glass of cool liquid. Though thirsty, I can't bring myself to drink the water, so I pour it down the drain and put the glass in the drainboard. My stomach gurgles and rumbles. I walk over to the fridge and open the door. Bathed in the off-white light of the small lightbulb is food, salads I've made ahead of time, small containers of fruit and leftovers from a couple of days ago. My body is telling me I'm hungry and I know I should eat, but I can't even will up the appetite, so I close the door.
I walk back over to the couch, sit back down, pull off my boots, wrap up in the blanket again and lay back down. I stare listlessly at the TV. The sound and the images distract me from my own thoughts.
My eyes open, I'm awake again. I wish I wasn't. On the TV some sort of cartoon about colorful animals is playing. Outside I can hear cars driving on the road and my neighbors talking with one another. How long have I been asleep? A few hours? A day? Two? My mouth feels like a desert. My stomach feels like it's twisted in painful knots. I know I should get up to eat and drink something, but I can't bring up the willpower to move. My body feels like it's made out of lead. So I just lie here on the couch, staring blankly at the TV.
My eyes open again. How I wish they would stay closed forever. Some daytime talk show is playing on the TV. My stomach is screaming at me in hunger and I'm thirsty. I should get up and eat and drink something, but I don't have the will to, so I just lie there. When I shift my weight, I can smell myself from under the blanket. I stink and should get a shower, but I can't conjure up the mental strength to even sit up.
I'm awoken by the sound of someone knocking on the door. I think they're saying my name, but I don't know for sure. My brain is lost, wandering in a grey fog. They knock a few more times. Their voice sounds sad, and a bit frazzled. It sounds like muffled gibberish. After several minutes they leave, and I'm alone with the grey brain fog, my listless thoughts and the distracting images and sounds of the TV.
I'm awake again. It's dark now. Why am I awake? Why can't I just sleep forever? On the TV is an infomercial trying to sell some sort of spatula. The woman on the screen is trying to flip an egg,but winds up making a mess. My mind focuses on the egg. So hungry. So thirsty. I should get up. Eat something. Drink something. But my body refuses to move.
I wake up again. It's light outside. Someone's knocking loudly on the door. Their voice sounds sad and concerned and bit frantic. I know their voice, but the grey brain fog blocks me from knowing who it is. There are other voices speaking loudly through the door. I should get up and see who it is, but I can't move. My body feels like it's made of lead. I try to speak up to ask who it is, but my voice comes out as a half-squeak-half-whimper.
After what feels like hours, though it could have only been minutes, they leave, leaving me alone with the grey brain fog and the TV.
I wake up again. It's dark. My body is screaming for food and water. It forces me to get up. I crawl out from under the blanket and the stink of a body that hasn't washed in several days, and possibly urine, hits me. It makes me gag. If there was anything in my stomach, I would have vomited. With limbs that feel like lead, I walk into the kitchen and fill the glass in the drainboard with water.
I greedily slurp down the water. Almost immediately it comes back up. After I don't know how many days of putting nothing in me, suddenly filling my stomach with something so rapidly made me sick. I put a small amount of water in the glass, nothing more than half a mouthful and swallow it down. I repeat the process until I'm no longer thirsty.
I place the glass in the sink. I'll wash it...I don't know when, just some time later. I open the fridge. The food inside has spoiled. Some of it has grown a carpet, some of it has started to turn into a weird sludge. I close the fridge. In one of the cabinets are cans of vegetable and fruit, but I lack the wherewithal to operate a can opener, so I just walk back to the couch to lay back down.
I wake up again, and again I wish I wasn't awake. Time is losing all meaning, just a seemingly endless cycle of awake and asleep, light and dark, even the TV has just become a nonsensical jumble of cartoons, talk shows, sitcoms and infomercials. For the past I don't know how many days...do days even exist any more?...someone knocks on the door, sometimes the knocking is frantic, fast paced rapping of knuckles on wood, sometimes it's loud pounding, always accompanied by voices, sometimes shouting, sometimes pleading, sometimes just talking in rambling in frantic sentences. As always, I lack the will or the strength to get up and ask who it is.
I can't be sure, but my phone may have rang and chimed a few times in the past. It's not made any noises for a while. It's probably dead now.
I want to shout. To scream. To cry out for help. But I can't. Too much grey fog in my brain. I feel so heavy.
It's been four..maybe more, maybe less, cycles of light and dark, accompanied by the constant droning of the TV, broken up by more and more frantic knocking. I no longer can tell what is going on as the grey fog has poured out of my brain and into the world. My body screams at me in hunger and thirst.
I don't know if I'm awake or asleep. Everything is just grey fog. There is a loud sound coming from somewhere, it's louder than the constant droning of the TV. It's not the knocking, it's more of a *thud-thud-thud-pause-thud-crack-thud*, and there's shouting.
C'mon Big Mac, just one more time. The frame's starting to give.
Eeyup!
How do you know she's in there? Maybe she went back through the statue portal or ran away to somewhere else.
The portal's closed, darling, and none of her neighbors have seen her. Nobody at her usual hangouts have seen her.
*crack* *bang*
Something wooden breaks and slams into that wall. It sounds so far away. I hear the rapid pounding of feet.
Sunset? Yo, Sunset! You here? Shout and let us know you're okay!
I try to speak, but no words come out, just a strangled, gravelly whimper.
I think she's over there on the couch.
There's more frantic footsteps on the floor.
Dear sweet...she's so gaunt! Is she alive?
There's a pressure on my neck.
She's got a pulse. Nobody's seen her for twelve days. Did she just lay here the whole time eating nothing?
I feel like such a horrible person for being so mean*sniff* to her that she'd want to lay here for twelve days and starve herself to death.
Now ain't th' time fer feelin' sorry fer yerself. Jackie, call nine-one-one. RD, make sure no one comes a peekin'. Fluttershy, Rarity, go an' watch out fer th' ambulance.
There's a big red blur hanging over me. I want to say something, anything. I'm so weak. So sleepy.
Dun go closin' yer eyes now. Look at me, say sumptin'.
I want to say thanks to whoever the big red blur is, I want to shout. I wind up saying the only two words my body will allow me to say."Th-th-thirsty. H-h-hungry."
There's a loud, nearly deafening whistle.
Dash! Find a clean washcloth or towel, wet it an' bring it here!
After several frantic footsteps there's some cool, wet and refreshing drops on my tongue. My body reacts on instinct and swallows them greedily. Outside there is a loud pitched whine of a siren followed by the sounds of heavy, frantic footsteps.
Th' paramedics are here. Ah'm gonna leave ya now, darlin'. Yer in good hands.
I feel two pairs of big, strong hands peel the blanket off of me, then slide something hard and plastic under me, cloth straps wrap around me and I'm being lifted up. Am I dead? Are these the guardians of eternity coming to escort my soul to the afterlife? The clatter of wheels snaps me out of my thoughts. Then there's a pair of loud slams.
"She's badly dehydrated. Let's get some saline in her.", a voice says from somewhere. There's a quick, sharp pain in the crook of my elbow and a cool sensation flows into my veins.
I wake up in a room that's not mine. The walls are a sterile white. There's no droning sound of my TV, just a constant *beep-beep-beep-beep*. I weakly lift my head and look around. I'm not laying on my couch, but in a narrow bed. There's an ugly green gown on my body. A bland green sheet and tan-cream blanket covering me. I look down at my arms, they're thin,not as thin as starving kids living in poverty-stricken countries on the commercials, but I'm definitely thinner than normal. Not to extent of the anorexic and bulimic people I've seen on the talk shows, but definitely not the healthy "she's been working out and watching what she's been eating" way either.
The door to the room clicks open and a man in a doctor's coat walks in. He identifies himself as Doctor Ink Splotch. He sits down beside me and starts asking me questions about what happened and how I'm feeling. I tell him about the incident with MyStable, about the grey fog that filled my head and how it's still there. He says nothing, just listens and scribbles down things on his clipboard. After we finish, he thanks me for talking, tells me that he hopes I feel better soon, leaves.
An hour later the nurse walks in carrying a tiny cup made of crimped paper that's holding two pills, one end is green, the other is yellow, and a larger paper cup containing an orange drink. I ask her what the pills are and what they're for. She says they're an antidepressant and they'll help me feel better.
It's been three days since I woke up in the hospital. I'm strong enough to walk around without help and eat solid food without it coming back up. They discharge me and give me the number for a psychologist, urging me to make an appointment with him. Out front waiting for me are Principal Celestia, Vice-principal Luna and my friends...well, former friends. I want to feel angry, I want to feel relieved, I want to feel...something. I just feel grey, grey and empty.
The girls walk up to me and I brace for the worst. Instead of angry and hurt shouts or accusations, apologies pour out. That catches me off guard. It turns out that Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle and Scootaloo, in a fit of jealousy, created a slam page on MyStable in an attempt to get more time with their sisters. They got caught when,after four days of no one seeing me, they were posting new stuff up, which began raising suspicions. That's when they started coming by my apartment and going to my usual haunts to apologize and beg for forgiveness. They started getting scared when after three days, no one had seen or heard from me. I want to be angry, I want to be happy, I want to hate them, I want to love them, but I can't. All there is is this empty grayness inside.
Principal Celestia and Vice-principal Luna shoo the girls away. They tell me that they're moving me into a small bungalow on their property and that they won't take no for an answer. I tell them how grateful I am. I want to be grateful, I really do, but I don't feel grateful, I just feel grey and empty.
It's been two weeks since I've gotten out of the hospital. Ten days ago I had my first meeting with the psychologist. The antidepressants he prescribed me don't make me feel better, it just makes me feel less grey and empty. On the coffee table in my little bungalow are a small stack of pamphlets about depression, dealing with depression and how to build a support network. It's been a slow process rebuilding the bridges with the five girls, every day in school they sit with me at breakfast and lunch, making sure I eat. Right now I'm sitting at the dinner table in Principal Celestia and Luna's house eating dinner with them. It's not some grand banquet, we're eating vegetarian lasagna.
I don't know if I'm better or not. I don't know if this grey emptiness in my core and the grey fog in my brain will ever go away or if it'll be here for the rest of my life. I just know that right now it's better than laying on the couch unable to move, unable to move as I slowly waste away.
Author's Note
If you find yourself unable to get out of bed because of depression or have thoughts of hurting yourself, call somebody. If you cannot think of anybody to call or have no one you can think of to call, the national suicide prevention lifeline is 988.
As I said in the story description, this is inspired by my own struggles with depression. It didn't get as bad as in this story. I lay in bed for 3 days, unable to get up, eat or drink. A couple of my friends came by and forced me to get up and get out.
Thank you all for reading the story and I hope you all enjoy.
