Prozac Nation

As I cry into my cup of tea, stirring the sugar to dissolve like a whirlwind of snow, I wonder how many other people in the city are currently doing the same.
There are not that many people out there who truly understand the word depression as it gets thrown around by everyone, to do with any situation which could be remotely upsetting.
That program was 'depressing', this song 'depresses me', I have so much work its 'depressed me'.
But how many people really understand chronic depression?
The depression where you cup a handful of pills and you shake through your actual inability to make a decision: live or die.
The depression where you will destroy your family, bring your family through never ending pain.
Still, my parents call me and when they hear me crying desperately I can hear their complete lack of surprise combined with their complete and utter heartache.
The pain to watch your child hurt in such a way.
They are used to providing band aids and telling you its going to be alright.
What if they can't do that anymore? What if its not going to be alright?

So I sit, breathing out smoke into the evening air, above a city full of people smiling and laughing, and probably someone out there crying into a cup of tea, deciding whether they should end their lives tonight as well.
I want to take that other person and hold them and say, "You are not alone."

I'd tell them the one thing more isolating than depression, is suicide, and I will not let them give up the fight just yet.
I put down my handful of pills and get into bed.
Not today.
Not tonight.
Not ever.

Depression cannot beat me.