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Too Many Days
Day 9
It’s been 9 days since I have talked to my friends. I’m not sure if they are wondering where I am. Or if I’m okay. Or if I’m still here. No contact.
My brain doesn’t work. My hands don’t work. Nothing works. It’s as simple as picking up the phone. But it’s just as hard as that. It’s as easy as pressing buttons. But it’s just as hard as that. Too much.
Locked doorknob, closed shades, under covers, sleeping. Day 9 is over.
Day 8
It’s now day 8 since I’ve washed my clothes. Which ones are clean, which ones are dirty - don’t ask me. I know as much as you. Confused as to how I live with it.
Just wash the clothes, just pick them up, just fold, just. Please. It’s as simple and as hard as that. Just work. Just work. Just work. Just.
Mixed fabrics, jumbled mess, thrown up on my floor, dirty. A wreck. Day 8 is closing.
Day 7
It’s day 7. 7 days since cleanliness. Dirty dishes everywhere, how do I eat? Eating out of my hands as if they were cleaner.
Just rinse them. Just wipe. Just dry. Just try. Just. Simple. Hard. Too much. Too much. Too much.
Dirty dishes, dirty floors, dirty, disgusting, daily chores that should be done. Shouldn’t they? Day 7 ends.
Day 6
It’s day 6 of the same clothes on my back. Dirty clothes still on my floor. Sweat drenched t-shirt hanging off my shoulders. Stretched out. Too big. Wrinkled.
Just change. Just wear this instead. Just do it. Please. Just.
Collected puddles, rivers of sweat, salt water spills, stretched, wrinkles, stain. I can’t move. Day 6 is over.
Day 5
Day 5 of cracking, smeared make up. Pimples make an unwanted visit. Stress? Hygiene? Maybe so.
Just use a wipe. Use some water. Use soap, towel, anything, take it off. Just. Nothing works.
Eyelashes falling out, flaking mascara, dry skin masks, black lines, black circles, cracked lips, tired. I’m tired. Can you tell? Day 5 is stopping.
Day 4
It’s been 4 days since a shower. A bath. Soap, water, wash.
Some water will do. Try a sponge. Soap? Shampoo, conditioner, rag. Please. Simple, hard, I don’t know.
Greasy hair, oily skin, dirty body, gross. Too hard. It’s too hard. Day 4 over.
Day 3
It’s day 3 since I’ve brushed my teeth. Dirt everywhere, dirty, disgusting, simple task that I can’t do. I’m not working.
A brush. Water. Toothpaste. Scrub. That’s all. All too much.
Grime everywhere, yellowing, rotting, holding back heavy breaths, cavities, dirty, disgusting, daily chores that should be done. No. Day 3 has come to an end.
Day 2
2 days since I’ve eaten. Do crumbs count? What about ice? It’s not working. Nothing is working. Nothing. Working.
Just eat. Just. Please. I can’t. Hard.
Screaming stomach, screaming mind, seemingly close to nothing. Day 2 closes.
Day 1
Day 1. No water. Nothing.
Just a drop. Nothing.
Dry throat, coughing, blood, bones, sleeping, nothing. Day 1 is ending.
Day —
Day — is over.
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I wrote this short story because I feel that many people have mixed up conceptions about depression and what it can do to a person. I realize that everyone who has suffered from it has their own experience, but we all can agree that depression is often glorified on the internet, in tv shows/movies, in music, etc. What is really common among those who have suffered/are suffering is the lack of motivation or desire to do anything for yourself and that can range from going to school or work, to completing simple tasks, to even participating in activities that you normally would enjoy. This short story somewhat demonstrates briefly that depression is not just a constant sadness. There are little things that come along with it and can affect our daily lives.