I have dealt with depression for a while. I started cutting when I was 14, but one day my stepfather came into my room to wake me up for the day and he saw the cuts and asked and I shamefully blamed it on the cat; so then moments later, mom comes in the room freaking out. So much more help right? So I didn't touch the broken glass in my bathroom drawer again. What I did do though was found cool or cute little fake tattoos, put them on, and then carve the shape over the tattoo. Then I covered it to heal it, but mom saw the sweat band and wanted to know why it was there and what was there. She flipped of course, "YOU COULD GET AN INFECTION" I knew mom. I knew that. That didn't mean I cared, I was developing issues I didn't understand.
Some people say that love takes time. I often wonder why people find that statement to be true, but of course I can understand why. Yet I still wonder. In reality, it is not about the time added up on the calendar, it is about the time that you feel is right in your heart.
You have been there for me since the day we started talking. I cannot explain in any way how much you mean to me because it's almost impossible. You have been my rock, my diary, my king, my happiness and my everything. It seems you're the only one who gets me. You're the only one who understands these demons in my head and when I'm in the room with my face shoved into the pillow you already know. And I appreciate that because you comfort me and just the touch of your hand makes me feel just a little better. I am not sure what I'd do without you my love, but with you so much can be done and with you it would be fun, exciting and adventurous no matter the task. Because you my love have made the hardest of tasks the easiest with your help.