So... In the next few paragraphs, words or sentences, I'm going to try to tel l you all how I feel.
It's not like it had been the first time I had heard all those three words in that Health class. I knew what depression was. I knew what it felt like. I still know those three horrible words as if they had slept in my bed. I tell myself it'll get better, though it never does. I feel it now, and that's the reason I'm revisiting Oasis. I have to get this out; If I don't get it out here, my family will see the words pouring out of my head.
For a year maybe, I've been in denial of a purpose for life. I can't stand the sound of my voice or the sight of my face. Denial is what I live for. Everyday I wake up to myself, just myself. Everynight I sleep looking at the wall, alone. I tell myself I'm amazing, superior, friendly, though I know it's all fraudulent.
Why can't life be genuine? Why can't I feel comfortable ever? Why do I loathe myself?