Now You See Me Now You Don't

You see me, maybe you introduce yourself to me. Your first impression, I am a happy person, smiling at you. I am loud, my voice carries. I am short, you look down at me, only five feet tall. I have bad vision, thick glasses. Maybe you see me as a leader, maybe you see me as a follower, a tag-along.
You get to know me better. I am a center, I move people around me just with slight pushes in the conversation. I am the reason one of my friends met the girl he is currently dating. I am the reason that another friend can ask Pan to use his rice cooker. I make people like or dislike me from the start, I decide slightly if they would make a good friend or not. I am the connection between other friends. I know everyone. I am a leader. I am always smiling around friends. I tell bad jokes, people laugh. I laugh at their jokes. I am energy, always in motion, never stopping for a second.
Get to know me even more. Sometimes I don’t smile. Sometimes I sit and lack the energy to talk much. I am contemplative. I am even sillier and harder to understand. I listen more, talk about deeper things. Sometimes I even cry during a sad movie near you.
Then deeper still. I am sad, almost always. Dealing with depression that I fight against, as I also fight to hide it. No reason behind the depression, not really. I explain my depression with mental projections that compile all the jerks and bullies from my life and every book I ever read. Very few ever reach this point, very few ever see this part of me.
I am almost always dealing with this hidden, darker piece of who I am. I try not to let it take over; I try to keep it from people who I’d rather have see me as strong. Only a few friends ever see that I am depressed, only a few can try to help. When you are this close, you have been through my defenses, and you are trying to see the me who stands scared, one hand holding a sword, the other tightening a noose around my neck.
And the lack of a reason for my depression, that is the worst for me. I try to see reasons beyond the biological, reasons why I’d think that death is a better answer, why I’d be so deeply sad in my center. Was it the jerk boyfriend my mom had when I was little? Was it my first stepdad? Was it the bully from first grade? Was it the substitute teacher in second grade? Was it something farther back that I don’t remember? Was it the C-section that got me out of my mom, since my head was too big to pass out in normal birth?
And why am I ashamed to show this depression? Is it because strong people in my life never seemed sad, because all my inspirations growing up were happy?
I hide depression from people. I am always trying to hide it, even from those who know it is there. I don’t want help, I don’t think I need it most of the time. Dealing with it is good. And besides, it has been there so long that losing the depression would be like losing an arm for me.
I hide from people.
Swanfirefly Swanfirefly
18-21, F
Jan 6, 2013