Personal Narrative: My Hostage Of Depression

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I know I've been through a lot. I've been a hostage of depression for 5 years, I lost a cousin, and was left behind by several people I thought were friends. These are just a few examples of what has brought me down over the years. But I am not necessarily weak for reaching the breaking point in these moments. Before I discovered my capacity to get up, I used to immediately put myself down for falling. I remember the time I learned this, it was the week my best friend betrayed me.
A week after getting back home from college, I had been waiting for my best friend to come back for his own winter break. It had been a couple rough weeks because, essentially, my break started earlier than the rest of my friends'. Days passed like weeks and weeks
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I wanted to have fun, we all did. We walked in and greeted the familiar faces from our younger years, it was a reunion party after all. I found myself surrounded by loud music I didn't really enjoy and spilled drinks. There was also cigarette smoke, which I knew would stain my face and shirt and make my mom wonder if I had been smoking while out, even though she knows damn well that I detest cigarettes.
It was a few moments later, to my surprise, that my best friend walked into the party. We greeted each other as if we still lived in the city - as if none of us had ever left each other's side to go study abroad. He is not a very outgoing person so it moved my world a little bit to see him at a party so soon.
The party continued and it was all fun. It seemed like another average party night. Just that it wasn't. The moment I went to pick up a drink for a friend, I turned around and I saw my best friend lighting up a cigarette and using it. My vision muffled and my hearing blurred; my senses died. All the cigarette smoke surrounding me didn't just bother me anymore, it nailed its claws into me. My entire world turned upside down. At that moment I realized: there had been four months in between us that I decided to ignore. These months carried memories we both forgot to share with each other, and it hurt me to know that we were not our first priority.
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I had to ask him when he started doing this. I called him and said that I needed him to come over. Then we just spent the night trying to discover why all of this happened. Why did I break down like that? What was it that I really feared would happen?
I told him that I thought I was weak, that I had tried driving off the bridge, and then attempted against myself again a day later. I remember him lifting my head and telling me to look him directly into his eyes. "You think you're weak? Then why the hell are you still here?" My face expressed confusion and he understood. "If you were weak I would've been crying at your funeral three years ago and you know that. If any of us two were weak for breaking down at this type of stuff we wouldn't be breathing." I held him and pulled him towards me. I hugged him, tightly as I've ever had, because I had just discovered how much I love him and how grateful I am to have him by my side.
He had just shown me something that was already hiding beneath my nose, that I am not as fragile as I thought I was. "Who gives a shit if you fall? We all do. But you get up every single time," I hear him tell me every time I feel weak now. That night I realized something that would change how I see myself forever: I am not a victim, I am a

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