Depression is real. | by Mekdi/🇪🇹story teller | Jul, 2025

Depression is real. But no one believes you.
Not until you break.
Not until you disappear.
Not until you’re gone — then suddenly, they say:
“Why didn’t she say something?”

But I did.
In the way I went quiet.
In the way I lost interest.
In the way I smiled less, texted slower, disappeared a little more every day.
I said it in silence,
because silence was all I had left.

—

People think depression looks like crying all day.
But no.
Sometimes it looks like washing dishes in a daze.
It looks like laughing at jokes when your chest feels hollow.
It looks like sleeping too much or not at all.
It looks like “I’m fine”
when you’re actually on the edge.

—

I’m one of the victims.
I don’t say that lightly.
Because depression isn’t just a bad mood — it’s a weight.
A fog.
A prison inside your own mind.

And the worst part?
No one takes it seriously.

They say:
“Pray harder.”
“You have food and a roof — be grateful.”
“Others have it worse.”
“You’re too sensitive.”

But they don’t know that I’m already praying.
That I’ve already cried in silence.
That I am grateful — but I’m also hurting.
That I’m not weak,
I’m exhausted.

—

What I want is understanding.
Not pity.
Not fake concern.
Just… someone to say:

> “I hear you. I believe you. You’re not alone.”

Because maybe if more people said that,
fewer of us would disappear without warning.

—

I’m still here. Still fighting. I’m still writing.
For myself — and for everyone who’s ever felt invisible in their pain.