I can't take staying home for weeks at the time, not even days. Not being able to go out, get fresh air. My mind goes crazy, and my mental health can't take it.
"I see you struggle with depression?" The doctor asked.
"..But you're better now?" She looked at me, my mother looked at me. I felt the air rushing out of me, my breath getting uneven and eyes locked to the floor.
"Yes." I said.
"Good, so we know you'll be able to cope with the pain after the operation, and the fact that you'll have to stay home for quite some time." She said, smiling at me.
This wasn't a good idea. I'm still worn out, just by sitting down in my basement, rotting alone. I don't do anything all day, still I get so exhausted. So tired, so sick of everything. When your mental health is crap, coping with physical things doesn't make it easier.
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