One of the things I’ve noticed about my acquaintances as a depressive person is that they talk bollocks. I don’t mean that in a nasty way; and I appreciate their attempts to cheer me up-but taking all things into account, most of it’s drivel, really.

In theory, the suggestion of taking a trip into town or going to the cinema is a great idea; let down by the reality of the empty wasteland of friendship circles that surround me. I’d love to go and see a movie-but the reality is, going alone is miserable. No one wants to be that one sad old fucker sat at the back with a bucket of popcorn watching a children’s film-you know, the one that we all ignore but are in fact very conscious of their presence, turning round every five minutes to track their behaviour.

So instead, today I ended up curled up on the sofa in a pile of empty crisp packets and festering under an old blanket: sobbing quietly, as per usual.

I had not imagined that this would be how I spent my 16th year.

A few years ago, before the depression and self harm, when the OCD was under control and the grief was still bottled, I envisaged my teen-hood to be somewhat resembling this: a plethora of friends queued outside the door waiting for the party to begin whilst I shrugged off my sweetheart upstairs in the bedroom, giggling. There isn’t time for this; not here, not now.

In those dreams, I was so young, so full of the joys of spring. People relied on me-they sought me out as a role model, as someone to adore; to idolise.

Which is far from the reality of the here and now.

It’s not even as if I push my peers away: I’m kind and sensitive, I have a good sense of humour. I’m far from perfect, but I try hard and I mean well. I suppose what it comes down to, is that old once a dog’s been given a bad name it’s hard to shift kind of thing. Once a high school outsider, always a high school outsider. Once I go to college I aim to re-invent myself as the powerhouse I really am.

The only way I’ve kept my sanity is by keeping those hopes and desires alive-in many ways, you have to, don’t you? If you stop feeding the fire, what’s to stop the flames from burning out?

I’m not happy. I’m not flickering brightly in any sense.
But for now, I’ll simmer.