"yesterday morning my grandma said, “too many girls
are depressed now days. most of them do it for attention,
most of them are weird.” i swallowed her words like sea
glass down my throat, the way i swallow the antidepressants
i take every morning to feel somewhat normal. i guess i
didn’t expect an “you’ll be okay” but i didn’t need a
confirmation that i was just another girl, another girl
that’s attention seeking and weird. i wish i could’ve
told her, “grandma it took me five weeks to finish
an essay because the thoughts of suicide are all i could
get my fingers to type.” “grandma i hide these cuts from
everyone because if they look at the wounds my sad soul
might just slip out and i can’t let the darkness see light.”
“grandma please don’t use that word around me it triggers
things like crazy, insane, insane, INSANE.” “grandma just hold
me and say i will be fine and that i am just as important as the
girl with a sore throat and lungs struggling to breathe because
my mind makes me struggle to live.”  “grandma i know im
not your favorite grandchild or your favorite anything but
its so easy to be sympathetic if you’d just give it a try but
thats the last thing i want, sympathy. i just want understanding
more than anything, please.” “grandma how would you feel
if you had to bury me before i buried you? please, would you
still think i am weird, would i still be wanting attention even
if i’m not there to see it? grandma?"

"She felt everything too deeply, it was like the world was too much for her."