Broken

Entry Two

Entry two

I'm beginning to question my existence on this earth. You would think that after twenty one years of living, I would know who I am, and I don't. Its honestly embarrassing, not being able to answer a simple "who am I" question. Maybe that's part of the reason I'm depressed. Not even college gave me an idea of who I was. Maybe that's a reason I dropped out, too. Nevermind that, I should probably start thinking positively. Maybe I could write down another fact. I'm living with my parents. While I was in the hospital, I was also put on watch because I was a bit unstable, like the loving people they were, my parents took me in once the doctor said I couldn't live on my own anymore. Being surrounded by two of the most caring people I've known isn't so bad. Honestly, I like it better than living alone in the apartment. I also don't have to move a finger to get what I want. My parents bring food to my room. The only thing I really have to move for is to go to the bathroom and to shower. Sometimes I wonder what it's like having a depressed kid. Probably horrible, knowing your kid isn't okay, and the simple things like"I love you" don't exactly cut it anymore.

Closing my depression journal (I nicknamed it that. I mean, it's what I use it for anyways...) and walked into the kitchen for the first time since I arrived at my parents house. I wasn't going to keep bothering my parents for food, might as well do something for once. As I poured cereal into my bowl, my parents came busting into the kitchen, my dad clutching a baseball bat and ready to swing. He set the bat down once recognizing my face.

"Alexander, you scared us." he told me, placing his hand over his heart. I simply looked up at him, mumbling and apology and watching him as he walked back into his room. Sighing, I walked back into my bedroom and feasted on my breakfast of fruit loop cereal.