I know that you love me. I know that you can’t picture a life without me in it. I know that you think the world of me and only want me to be happy.
I know you think the world of me. I know that you’re happy with me. I know you never want to let me down.
I know that no matter what you will always be there for me. I know you’d never even think of leaving me. I know all of these things because you are constantly reassuring me of them.
I know this, but I don’t believe it…
I can’t believe it, because my depression tells me that I’m not good enough for you.
My depression tells me that you can’t possibly love me, because I will never be worthy of a love that great. My depression tells me that every line out of your mouth is a lie, because no one could possibly be that sweet or caring, especially when it comes to me.
My depression tells me that you’ll get tired of me and leave, because I’m too much work for anyone to want around. My depression tells me that I’m alone even when I’m with you, because even your love can’t save me.
It tells me that every aspect of our relationship is bound to fail, because we are not even strong enough to break through the hold it has over me. It tells me that your love for me isn’t real, because that type of love only exists in fairytales and reality is bound to hit when I least expect it.
It’s not that I don’t love you. I really do and I want this to last more than anything. I don’t mean to be so negative about things or so withdrawn from you.
But having depression is like having the Devil constantly whispering in your ear. He’s telling you all of the things you don’t want to hear. Pointing out things you’d rather just ignore.
He’s putting thoughts in your head that no rational person would have. He’s making it impossible to see the good in anything, including love.
Do you understand?
Having depression is like having a dementor as a house guest. Every now and then the happiness is sucked out of the world and you’re left with nothing but the pain and sadness. You’re left with nothing but painful memories that plague your mind making it feel like happiness is impossible.
I know it’s hard, but please try to understand. I love you and the rational part of me knows you love me too. It’s only that my depression tells me I’m not good enough for you.
Will you help me fight it?
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