I am becoming a monster.
since June, I’ve been struggling with (I’m not sure if it’s really) depression.
You see, my mom had to leave to work overseas because work here just can’t pay the bills anymore. That predicament leaves in charge over everything: My sisters, paying the bills, grocery shopping, and, for a while, looking over construction jobs for a bunch of apartments that my relatives owned.
It’s supposed to be smooth sailing, all I had to do was go to the bank and just hand over money, right? I was really wrong about that.
Bills were bigger than expected, making due dates marking the most dreadful times of the month I’d have to experience over and over and over again. There’s also the constant pressure of other people at home, constantly asking for this, for that, like I was some sort of machine they can get money from any time of the day. And it still feels like that. They don’t know how much I have to pay for each month, they don’t know how much I have to pay to stay in school, they don’t know how miserable and alone I feel for having to go through all of this at once. They don’t know and they probably never will.
What frustrates me more sometimes is how other people deliver that overused line: “Just tell us if you need help.” All they could offer is words. Words cannot take away the problem. Words won’t let me stay in school. Words will not pay for the bills.
That’s it, right? The root of my problem and depression is money. And no one can help me, at least no one who can would want to.
It baffles me how seemingly insignificant pieces of paper can push me into this void of misery and sadness. It frustrates how I cannot solve my problems because I literally don’t have the solution in my hands.
I want to give up. My mother will be back soon, and I just don’t know what I’ll do once she finds out how bad things are back here. I don’t know if I’d still want to go to my last semester in college just because I feel like it’s an additional burden to what we already have. I don’t want to wake up anymore. I don’t want to be here.
And every day that I am, I have to witness all the fun things people can do, all of their dreams within reach and the shallowness that all their problems would only ever reach.
Maybe it’s my fault for not telling an adult what I’m going through. Maybe it’s my fault why all of this is happening.
I need a miracle.
I need help. Please.