2:18 A.M.

January 31, 2023
This story took place in United States

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Sometimes it feels like my keyboard is my only friend; the only thing I can safely confide in, even if it is an inanimate object.  

I often wonder why friends stay and why they haven’t left, or that they must be my friend out of pity.

I scroll through Instagram stories and get sad not just because of the holidays themselves that I’ve missed as much as I’ve tried to make them my own, but because I’m convinced that even if I could physically be there, those friends won’t make space for my burdens and that they’ve moved on.

I get sad because it feels like the only “friends” I have left are within these white walls of the rooms that I find myself returning to, again and again, and ones that, for extended lengths of time, I can’t leave.

Logically, I know these are nothing more than fleeting thoughts, but as I type this in the early hours of a cold, sterile morning as the sounds of beep beep beep play in the background and tears stream down my face–oh my God, I’m letting myself cry–those fleeting thoughts feel so, so incredibly real.

That’s because depression and trauma lie to you. 

The thoughts that creep in your head at night and tell you you’re worthless aren’t real.

The thoughts that tell you that you don’t deserve love aren’t real.

The thoughts that tell you that you don’t deserve to take up space aren’t real.

The thoughts that tell you people can take up that space with you are real.

The thoughts that tell you that people love you are real.

And you, my friend, are a real human being that has so many people that love you, even if those people feel far away.  And remember, those friends can go into those rooms with you, even if you can’t leave them yourself.

And if you’re like me, spiraling and ruminating in the early hours of the morning about breaking the cycle of those dark thoughts, if other people feel the same way or if they are truly there for you, know that I am with you – even at 2:18 a.m.

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