Every morning starts out differently. I'm pretty sure it's like that for everyone. Sometimes I wake up early and ready for the day—that's a rarity that I enjoy. Most of the time I wake up late and I have no motivation for the day. I only get out of bed to walk my dog, then I take my medicine, and, occasionally, I'll go back out with the dog for a small run. If I have nothing planned for the day, I pull out my checklist. There are always so many things to do, and sometimes it gets overwhelming. When it's too much for me to handle, I shut down. I tell myself that I can't shut down because I have things to do, but it never works. I end up bundled up in my bed, hidden away from the world. I come out again to take the dog back outside, and then we take naps together. Sometimes I watch crime shows on my phone or read a book instead of, once again, falling asleep. Once everyone arrives home after work, I come out of my bed once again. I stay out until I can eat something, and then I return to my bed. I don't sleep, though. I lay awake thinking about everything wrong with me. I think about how my nose is too big, or my eyelashes are too short. I think about how a relationship has never worked out for me because of my depression. I wonder if all of the bad things that happen to people around me are my fault. I think about leaving here so that my friends and family don't have to deal with my mood swings. I lay there getting worse instead of better.
Before I was perfect. I was happy about almost everything. The one thing I didn't enjoy was school. There were very few people I knew that enjoyed school, so I was still normal. I went out with my friends. We were still young though so our parents would drive us around. Galactic bowling was our favorite pastime while getting kicked out of Walmart was one of our favorite challenges.