Dear Depression,

The doctor says you're not getting better. He suggested medicine for you again to make you smaller, more manageable. And this time, I accepted.
The truth is you have worn me out. I am tired of not sleeping well at night and missing half of a beautiful day trying to catch up. I am tired of not being able to eat, of literally losing all of my food from stress. I am tired of feeling so low, so hopeless.
And I am scared too. I am scared of what the medicine might do to me. But it can't be any worse than what you do to me. You tell me I am all alone, that I am a failure, that I will never amount to anything. Depression, you're lieing. I am done listening.
They told me it's going to take some time to figure it out, but we both know I can be patient. I want to get better. So I am saying goodbye.
I won't miss you.
Amy