Great Depression Narrative

dear depression, we go way back. i remember the first time i met you- i was 8 years old. i was teased for being fat, even though i was only 50 pounds. i remember you crawling into the back of my mind every time i looked in the mirror, forcing those rude comments back into my head. you didn't stick around at first, but you eventually manifested yourself into my life. you hit home with me when i was 12. the remarks about my weight had gotten cruel, but for some reason my appearance wasn't enough to make fun of. because at 12 i was a "slut", and i was "fake". i was told both to my face and behind a screen that no one liked me, that i could kill myself and no one could care. i could no longer go to school without the fear of being verbally attacked-

rumors began going around that i was a slut & was accused of fucking multiple guys even though i was a virgin. people lost respect for me & eventually started attacking me on social media. i began to change rapidly, and i began to worry my parents, my friends, and my therapist. apparently my depression and anxiety weren't alone, because i was then diagnosed with bipolar. depression, you led me to steal my father's pain killers & abuse them to the point i could take 6 at once and not feel anything. i began to cut again, but holy shit these were worse. these cuts left scars that are still here and will be here for the rest of my life. and again, this goes on daily for months. so now it's almost the end of freshman year, and i actually lost my virginity to a guy who treated me like shit and broke my heart. but as hard as that was, the drugs & self harm you introduced me to helped me through it. well, they helped me until i had my first overdose, at least. an overdose that was caused by me taking 20 pain killers on the last day of school. my dad found me asleep on the couch covered in my own throw up not being able to stand up or form a complete sentence. he knew i had smoked that day but nothing else, so i didn't tell him