Notes

There are a lot of things about your fight with depression that I simply don’t know.

But let me tell you a few things that I do know.

I know how it feels.

I know how it feels to have no one understand what you’re going through.

I know how it feels to feel alone in a crowded room; to feel like you’re putting on a “happy mask” in public, only to feel like you’re slipping further and further into an unsolvable despair.

I know how it feels to lose interest in things that once brought you joy and happiness; for foods to lose their taste, for nature to lose its beauty, and for the world to lose its color.

I know how it feels to want to be left alone while simultaneously (and desperately) yearn for someone to reach out and help you.

I know how it feels to do everything—absolutely everything—to try to fill the growing emptiness inside of you. I know how it feels to try to self-medicate and mute the pain with anything and everything: excessive sleep, television, foods, pain killers, drugs, or other addictions.

I know how depression feels and I’m intimately aware of the thoughts and feelings that lead to suicide.

But I also know a few other things. And this is why I’m writing to you.

I know there is hope.

I know that you can make it through this.

And what’s more, I know that you can be a better person because of it.