Anxiety and Depression nosleep

In case you haven’t noticed, there is a stigma against men accessing mental health services. I was always told to suck it up and stop being sad. Even at the age of eight my parents had no tolerance for my misery. They’re both from China. As traditional Chinese parents, they don’t believe in therapy. They just wanted me to get stronger.

But all I felt was weakness.

I’m not sure exactly when I made the feelings into imaginary friends, but I don’t remember a time without them. Their names are Anxiety and Depression. I supposed I blame them for all of my problems. When they visit me I know things will be bad. I could be in a crowded place and they’d cause a panic attack to take over my body. They would sleep on top of me at night, constricting my breathing. They followed me from place to place without any remorse. In truth, they haunt me.

Anxiety is a tall thin man with no arms. He is completely naked with fingers coming out of his skin. They wriggle around like little worms. His cheeks sag down off his face like basset ears. Drool bubbles up and he sputters bits of phlegm everywhere. When he isn’t drooling he’s whispering things to me. Always whispering. “Your parents hate you.” “You’ll never be anything.” “You’ll die soon.” His voice sounds surprisingly like my father’s broken English. The things he says are terrible, but it’s when he touches me that it’s unbearable. His tiny fingered skin will brush against mine like the feet of a millipede. I cringe and scratch. My mother found long cuts on my arms. I tried to explain it was Anxiety but she just accused me of just wanting attention.

Depression is very different. She looks like a normal woman on one half of her body, but the other half is completely melted. There is an open wound on her scalp which constantly bleeds and spouts greenish puddles of pus. Instead of tears, she cries baby teeth onto the folds of her own skin. She likes to use her good arm to push down on my shoulders. The weight of her would makes me stoop. She doesn’t speak in words, but instead makes a low moan like the call of an owl. I hear it all the time. The sorrowful sound makes my heart hurt. I can’t sleep because of the noise, but can’t get out of bed because of her constant pressure.

I knew logically that they weren’t real in a traditional sense. They were figments of my imagination. But their impact was undeniable. They worked together to make my life as hard as possible. I was utterly alone, except for the two of them.

At least, until this morning.

I woke up with Depression sleeping on my chest. Her disgusting head wound was spitting pus into my mouth. I tried to speak, to ask for help, but her bile kept my voice silent. Anxiety slithered up from the floor. He brushed his terrible finger skin along my arms. I could barely breathe. Anxiety smirked and coughed drool onto my face.

Three knocks came from the door. Depression and Anxiety stiffened, releasing their grips on me for a moment. My sister Kim’s voice came from the hallway. “Get up. Mom says I have to drive you to school.”

I tried to speak by Depression’s bitterness was still clogging my throat. Kim sighed loudly and jammed the door open. “I said get up!”

I screamed when I saw her. She shook in surprise. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

My sister stood in the doorway, her face a mixture of confusion and repulsion. But on her shoulder…was a creature. It was a birdlike skeleton with its claws buried in her neck. Its head was a putrid bowl of vomit. Two eyes floated in the rancid liquid, spinning in circles. Kim stared at me, completely unaware of the thing on top of her.

“Kim, what is that?!”

“What is what?” I pointed at her shoulder. She looked around but saw nothing. “You are such a fucking psycho, you know that? Now get up so I can drive you to school.”

The thing on her shoulder made a loud gurgling noise and then began talking. Its voice was a mix of my mother’s voice and a high pitched wail. “He’s pointing at your fat. Your ugly, huge body. You’re such a disgusting pig. You’ll never be thin enough.” Kim’s face fell a little.

“Why is it saying that?” I cried at her.

She looked at me like I was a cockroach. “You have officially gone insane.” She turned around and left. I heard her go into the bathroom.

I lay for a few moments in my bed. What did I just see? Shakily I stood up. Maybe Kim was right – I was going insane. It wouldn’t really surprise me. Anxiety perked up and whispered, “You’ve always been crazy.”

Depression dragged her melted form behind me as I got dressed. I tried to pretend like I hadn’t just seen that demon clawing at my sister. It was early, maybe it was a dream. I got downstairs by Anxiety pushing me with his tiny fingers. “If you’re late, your family will hate you even more.”

My parents were in the kitchen. Behind them were identical copies of themselves, except swathed in straightjackets made of barbed wire. The copies were screaming, struggling against their binds. But my parents didn’t notice. My father was reading the paper. My mother was finishing breakfast. Her copy slammed itself against the refrigerator, trying to speak. Sand poured out of its mouth.

“Good morning,” she said cheerfully to me.

My mouth hung open. How could they not see, not hear those hideous copies? Kim walked around me into the kitchen. The monster was still perched on her, its vomit skull just a little bit bigger. She grabbed the keys off the counter. “Come on, psycho.”

I tried to edge as far away from her in the car as possible. The thing on her shoulder didn’t seem to care about me. It just kept talking to her. “Fat pig. No one will love you. Fat ugly sick cow.” Kim drove in silence.

I soon realized it wasn’t just my family. Everyone we passed had something sickening on or near them. Demons covered the pedestrians. None of them looked the same, but each was disturbing. One man had a giant wolf with its teeth lodged into his back. A woman was surrounded by a black cloud with hundreds of reaching hands. I tried to close my eyes but Anxiety used his wriggling fingers to pry my eyelids open.

Kim got to me to school in less than ten minutes. I saw the kids in my class, kids I’d known for years, being haunted by hideous creatures. I didn’t want to leave the car. Kim narrowed her eyes. “Seriously, are you okay?”

I looked up at her. I wanted so desperately to tell her what was wrong. Depression punched me in the stomach. Anxiety whispered, “Don’t burden her. You’re not worth it.”

“I’m fine,” I said quietly. I exited the car and went into the building.

I couldn’t concentrate on anything. All I could see were the horrible beings tormenting my classmates. Alicia, a girl I’ve always had a crush on, had a disgustingly long tongue hanging down the back of her head. It slurped her hair and she kept plucking at it. She pulled one individual strands and the tongue would stop licking for a moment before starting up again. Benny, my best friend, was face to face with a version of his father. Except this version was small, about the size of an apple, and it sat on his ear. It was shouting, “Be daddy’s good boy. Don’t tell your mom. This is our secret. Such a good boy.” Carrie, the smartest girl in class, had two heads growing out of her neck. One was sickly and dying, coughing up pus that looked like the kind Depression oozed from her skull. The other head was on fire, laughing hysterically and biting at her cheeks.

Even my teacher, Mr. Morrin, had a demon. His was a stick man with dead black flowers growing from his wooden skin. One of his hands was balled in a fist. The other was grasped firmly onto Mr. Morrin’s genitals. The stick man gnashed his teeth and foamed at the mouth. He said, “Alicia is such an innocent girl. Probably still a virgin. So pure. We could deflower her. We could break her in the middle.” Mr. Morrin just kept teaching without noticing.

Once first period was over, I knew I had to get out of there. I snuck out and fled across the field behind the school. Anxiety and Depression followed closely. I was used to them, they were my monsters. But seeing the horrible beings haunting those around me…it was too much.

I paused at the small wooded area just beyond the field. It was such a relief to not see anyone. No people meant no monsters. I was able to get three deep breaths before I heard a twig break behind me. I turned to see Gerald Anderson. Gerald was a few grades ahead of me. He was known as the biggest bully in school. He had never really bothered me though. I was too quiet to garner much attention.

I sucked in my breath, preparing myself for a terrifying creature to show its fear. But Gerald was alone. There was no monster with him. He cocked his head at me, flicking a cigarette out of his mouth. “You’re that Asian kid in 9th grade, right?”

“Uh, yeah.” Anxiety fluttered around me, whispering repeatedly. Depression slumped onto my back.

Gerald took a step closer. “You look like you’re having a rough day.”

I had no idea why he was talking to me. His voice was monotone but I felt strangely calmed by it. It was the first time in a long time that someone acknowledged my pain.

“Yeah.” My voice broke. Anxiety whispered, “You sound like a pussy.”

“You know, life gets rough sometimes,” Gerald mused. “Makes you kind of wonder why we even do it.”

I blinked. “Yeah. I guess.”

He continued, “Like, what’s the point of living if all we get is misery? Well, all you get. I haven’t had much emotions myself. My therapist calls it anti-social personality disorder. Can you believe that? I’m a social person! Here I am, talking to you. Right?”

I didn’t understand our conversation. But Anxiety moved my lips for me. “Right.”

Gerald was close now, nearly touching me. “You should kill yourself.”

Depression gleefully cried baby teeth all over my chest. “What?”

“There’s no point in living anyway. Suicide is the best solution. I’ve been telling people that for years. I got Sam to do it last April, and I bet he’s happier now.” Gerald stroked his hair. “You should kill yourself, kid. You’ll be happy too.”

Depression wrapped her melted flesh around my body. She caressed me with her bloody pus. “You really think that’s what I should do?”

“Yeah, I do.” He reached out and pinched my arm. I flinched. “You won’t feel pain anymore.” He stepped back and laughed. “But whatever, I don’t care what the fuck you do.” He turned his back on me and walked away. I watched him go until he disappeared back into the school building.

I made my way home. That’s where I am now. I’m sitting on the bathroom floor, typing this as quickly as possible. I need to do it quick before my family comes home. I don’t think I could go through with it if they were here.

Depression turned the water on. The tub is filling up. Anxiety is holding the razor. He whispers, “Do it. Do it.” Depression is raising my arm to the blade.

I’m sorry, but I can’t live with these monsters anymore. I can’t live knowing everyone else has them too. Everyone except Gerald. Maybe he doesn’t need a monster.

Goodbye. I hope you can manage yours better than I did mine.

Submitted May 03, 2016 at 07:21AM by EZmisery http://ift.tt/1Ts6JeN nosleep