Life in a Letter

Dear Depression,

It has not been long enough since I have contacted you old friend. I say that and yet it seems you get in touch with me far too often. I address you as a friend, but in all reality I should not. A friend would not make me doubt my own joy, or my relationships with people I should know love me despite you and everything else I am. A friend would not keep me up late into the night when they know I need sleep, or make me feel as though I do not deserve the things I have in life. The truth is you are not a friend, you are a parasite. A parasite that feeds off of my confidence, sucking away at anything I earned or have accomplished till I have hardly anything left to survive off of, leaving me with only small thinning threads of happiness. You attempt to take away all that I am, but I will not give into your parasitic nature. You may make me stumble and fall through life, but as long as I keep walking I will make it through. Maybe even one day I will tread a path that walks over you, crushing you for good, and leaving you in the dirt far behind me on my path toward finding whatever it is the future holds for me. Till then I leave you with this message promising that I will endure your abuse, and assure you all my strings have not yet broken.

Your friend,

Hannah Adams