Oh, how the past keeps coming up.
She still comes up in conversations…with family…on Facebook. She’s there.
But, she’s not the reason I’m so fucked up.
There has to be more. There has to be a reason that doesn’t just include her.
Go back to a history, there are so many fucked up things that have happened in my life it can’t just be her.
I’ve been depressed for years, and taking medication is only helping me keep the bad thoughts at bay. They are keeping me alive.
It can’t be just her.
The past, it always come up.
Depression has always been a problem, whether I wanted to admit it or not, it’s always been there. Especially in my younger days. It was there and it was evident that I needed more than just to “snap out of it”.
I’m not on medications because of her. Because of how she treated me, because of how she would say demeaning things to me.
I’m on medications because I’m depressed, because I’m anxious, because I could be bipolar.
She has not made me weak. She has not made me like this.
I am not ashamed.
I am ok.
And the past needs to die.