It’s really amazing how much I’ve changed since the citalopram started working. My depression made me feel like I was drowning, like life was pointless. Bad things kept happening and I was convinced life would never get better. I’d bounce between insomnia and over sleeping, and every day was a struggle. It’s hard to imagine now that I used to wake up every morning wishing I was dead. I knew I couldn’t commit to anything final, because I’m not selfish enough to hurt the few that would care. Only a few, but they’re the few that still matter. So I walked around like a ghost, hoping the bus would crash, wishing a car would hit me. I walked around praying for death to visit.
I can finally smile again, not the kind that I trained myself to show others “I’m fine”, but genuine cheer because I’m genuinely happy.