Depression
Depression kills, they said. However, mine does not. Yes, it shits my life dozens of times but no, it's not capable of killing me. It just motivates me, gives me bigger inspirations and provides me a greater boost of morale. A greater boost of morale to die, the bigger inspiration to kill myself, and the motivation to finally make an outline of my killing-myself-deed. Actually, I'm not depressed. I am overreacting. In fact, I overreact every time a problem, even the tiniest sort, appears in my life. And I hate myself for that. I have been so used to complaining about everything that I grew up to become the whining bitch that I currently am. See, the past few months have been the hardest months of my life -- a lot harder than it was in junior high. Everything was harder. Quizzes, projects, responsibilities, and worse, the people surrounding me. I am so not a stereotype and hasty-generalizer (yes, I'm passing a petition to add that word to Webster's) bu...