My story with depression and bullying *possible trigger warning*

(Note: this is not a cry for attention or help) (also the names have been changed)

Hi there. In case anyone of you wanted to know, here you go.

My depression started a long time ago, 5th grade, when I was too young to even think of being depressed. I guess you could call me "the smart kid", at least everyone thought I was. Because of that I delevoped a pretty big ego. I really wish I hadn't. At the time I had recently lost my grandmother who was like my personal seven cups listener. But even that wasn't enough to set me off my happy-go-lucky path. Anyway my depression started to show it's face more at the end of the year, thank god for summer. I was stressed out of my mind, my sleep was off, I walked around the school like a zombie, and I just felt miserable.

Fast forward to sixth grade, I started off great.This was my first year in orchetra playing violin. Establishing myself as someone important was easy, I was on cloud nine. Later towards christmas I couldn't stop thinking of my grandmother who always did the holiday arrangements, and we had one big assignment for each class before break. I got the others done easily but language arts called for a story. I loved writing and I still do. So I decided to make it the story of how my grandmother passed with the names changed. We were sharing them with the class and it was my chance to share a meanful part of my life I had learned from.

That day I was called up to read my story I had spent hours on, I stood proud but I was cut off. It was my chance to share, and it was stolen from me. I spent the rest of those four classes watching people read their stories, on the verge of tears. I felt so alone after that, as stupid as that sounds. I started noticing things that bounced off me before. I.e I was no one's first choice for partner. My pride was crumbling so I retreated inward, sitting alone reading at recess, pretending to not care, and even ignoring the teacher when she said pick a partner.

Apathy hit me after that and I lost interest in Language Arts and writing in general for a while. Why even write if no one reads it is what I had thought at the time. I moped around, being less active in the conversations, feeling gross and distant. At lunch Id not care about people ditching the line, being nuisances and saying you talk? whenever I make a remark.

Then halfway through the year, everyone started leaving, at lunch Id sit alone, in class, in the hallways, everywhere. I read my book and try not to cry. Teachers would sometimes try to talk to me Id nod and pretend to listen. One handed me a slip that said I could see the student counselor, was my crippling loneliness that obvious? One by one they returned, except for Mandy, the one I thought would help me.

I became detached and fell deeper and deeper into my depression. In class, Id answer one question to get the teacher to leave me alone and then doodle in my notebook. No one noticed that I was absentmindedly drawings nooses hanging from trees and monsters made of scribbles and horrible words.

I'd make as many excuses as possible to leave so I would have to eat lunch. Sometimes Id go to the bathroom and sit there crying until lunch ended, other times Id just give it away and say Im not hungry. I was so alone even in a crowd of people. Id make people read a book with a section about depression to maybe show them what I was going through. Nothing.

To keep the horrible thoughts at bay I think of worlds that will never happen. Like getting rewind powers to fix my mistakes, having save and quit powers, being grown up, and putting myself in the shoes of fictional characters.

Nothing interesting happens for about a month then I remeet someone I thought I knew. We'll call him Tommy. You see I was in a group of "friends" we shared interests that meant we were friends right? Anyway Tommy didn't matter until about a week until he started hanging out with the group. So one of the other people in the group we'll call him Randy delevolped a crush on me of all people. Others in the class and group had told me that he liked me, I knew but didn't want to acknowledge it.

So later, I don't know how much later, the three guys of the group Randy, Tommy, and I guess we'll call him Justin decided to play a game where if one asked out their crush and they said yes the next person one would ask their crush. So the order went like this Tommy, Randy, Justin. Tommy asked out this girl who said yes and when she realized the question said no imedately. Tommy argued that she said yes at first so Randy would have to do it.

The next day, during gym class, I sat out on the bleachers due to having an injury. Randy sat beside me, before then I thought I wasn't his crush because he hadn't asked me yet. But as soon as he sat down I knew. All I could think is "OH MY GOD! OH MY GOD! HE'S GOING TO ASK ME". He did. I can only imagine how red my face probably was. I delayed my answer until we got back to our group. They egged it on, I was lead to believe it was all in good fun. Their reason was that Justin's crush had a boyfriend who was so much taller than Justin and they all thought he'd be beat up.

The only way I could let that happen was if I said yes. Except he didnt even follow through and everyone thought we were dating.

Tommy latched onto this like a leech and milked it for everything it wasnt. Fact of the matter is we werent dating and Ive never liked Randy like that, and I dont think Ive ever truly loved someone romantically. But anyway we were paired under the ship name Rage. Tommy couldnt resist making a Rage joke at anytime he could. I eventually learned to always be angry and distant during lunch, waiting for the next verbal beatdown so I could think of a burn or comeback to make his head spin.

But since I deep down didnt care about his words, none of my comebacks meant a thing. I guess I knew if I hadnt rebuttaled it would look as if it were true. Or at least I didnt care until he started to question how far the fake relationship he had constructed in his mind would go.

He began hatching fantasies about our relationship that would sometimes go way too far. My pride and self image resting on the basis that I was asexual and would always remain a virgin was on the line as more and more people joined in, I felt overwhelmed. It wasnt that I was a prude or just didnt understand but I just didnt want that kind of relationship and I dont think I ever will. To add insult to injury I was 12, freaking 12. Who thinks a 12 year old is having sex? Especially one that has admitted to being asexual? (Asexual= not being interested in sexual exchanges and activities)

I couldnt afford to not care anymore, every chance I had I would make my words cut deep like daggers. His jokes died down after I couldnt take it anymore and wrote a note pretending to be a third party witness. Do I regret the way I took action? Yes. Do I regret the punishment Tommy got? No.

Everyone rushed to his side like he had been shot. I think he was blubbering, it shouldve felt like I had won but I couldnt feel anything at that point. I had wasted my last miserable emotion feeling scared about how people would react.

Deep down I think everyone knew that it was me but Tommy and Justin were more verbal about it. Tommy shut up about it after confronting me once saying: Alright Ill stop, you didnt have to tell on me. Justin brung it up over and over again spinning my words and on one occasion making up one word that completely changed the meaning of my sentence.

But whatever, I remained reserved and bounced these off like flies and continued as if he didnt say anything. I couldnt feel surprised or even angry because I wasted my feelings away. Its a weird sensation to realize you dont feel anything. Even when you cry, its just a thing that doesnt have any meaning anymore. Of all the things Ive wasted, the worst are my feelings and tears.

Crying used to mean I was angry or confused or sad or shocked or anything else. Now its just something that happens. My throat burns, the first tear is stuck between my lashes as I make a horrible sniveling sound, and attention gathers as I desperately try to stop it and I place my hands over my face to catch tears and muffle the pitiful sound. My face turns red along with my eyes and I cant take it anymore, crying over nothing. Shame sometimes returns from the grave filling my head with thoughts so horrible they couldnt possibly be my own.

Shame had become my one and only motivation, as societys standards become harder and harder to meet, I turned to shame. Shaming myself was the only way to get myself to do something, but after I did it the shame leaves and I was dead inside again. At that time I was so desperate to feel something that I openly accepted shame without any real reason other than its the only time I can feel something at all.

Actually there was one other feeling I had left, intense, crippling boredom. Boredom is what I felt when shame is gone, everything resulted from that. Since I couldn't feel any meaningful emotions, I needed to fake my reactions. I had gotten good at faking smiles, laughs, and frowns. No one had noticed. When I was doing the wrong expression Id say my mind was elsewhere thinking about something else entirely.

I cant help but blame myself for being too good at acting. If I hadnt spent such a long time looking depressed but being fine and telling others that nothing was wrong maybe they would have noticed. And when someone, a teacher, did notice, I turned her away. Im sure a student crying with her face covered was not alarming at all.

I said I was fine, my head was throbbing and screaming at me to say something. Anything. It was my chance, my chance to tell someone and get help. I wasnt taking antidepressants at the time or seeking therapy. Some part of me hated myself for not telling her how I really felt but I feel as if there was no part of me that I could hate more than the part that told me not say anything.

Orchestra stopped being fun after a month or so of it starting. Some say ballet ruined them, orchestra was that for me. I felt I was always so bad and to be honest I was. While I think of how it payed of now, at the time it was so bad. Though I tried to be optmistic and told myself it would get better.

Orchestra didnt change after all, I had optimistically thought it may have. It continued to be a drag and weigh me down the rest of the day. Playing tests were the worst part by far because I knew I was bad but everyone else didnt. I joined in when people called Josh the worst player but when he aced a 25 on a playing test, I knew they had misguided there mean words. Josh still isnt the best player but it is now clear who the worst is.

Squeaky sounds fill the room when I play, the rhythm is wrong, notes are missed, and pauses are added. Sometimes I wonder what its like to be perfect like Jenibella. Her hair doesnt frizz or mess up, when mine barely looks brushed. I could go on and on and on.

Somedays after orchestra I'd hide in the bathroom before school officially starts, sometimes Id actually make an excuse and leave before orchestra ends and never go back. Id stare into the mirror, holding a razor blade in my trembling palm. Locking myself in a stall where there are no cameras. Pulling up my pants leg and painting a picture with my blade. Blood washing over my leg, but when the bleeding stops my relief goes away.

During days when my anxiety was high, Id sneak to the bathroom between class periods and lunch. My lunch portions were getting smaller and no one notices.

I eventually just said I was going through depression and two of my "friends" said You dont seem depressed to me, and Are you sure its not made up for attention? I could feel the bile rising in my throat, I then went to the bathroom and threw up. After that I decided not to tell the others.

During the last two monthes of school I transferred to the gifted program in the junior high and I didn't see them for almost two years. Then I found out I was sharing a locker with Tommy when they were coming to the junior high.

This is getting long so I won't keep on writing. If anyone wants the rest of the story maybe I'll post it in a different thread.