My room is a mess. Clothes litter my floor. Dishes inhabit my desk. Dark circles hang on my eyes. The tan I gained from the beach has faded to my original skin tone. I should get up and do something worth my time. I should get up and be social, but when I did, I just got turned down again and again. Each time I tried to invite some one over, they forgot or said no, causing my shoulders to grow heavier. When I try, I get turned down. When I don’t, no one cares. My sister lives with her head up high and a light around her. How does she do it? I can’t go more than a month without feeling so heavy I can’t get out of bed. She has friends who care. She’s not afraid to live. Mom says I should go back on my meds, but that thought sends a shudder down my spine. Mom says I should make new friends, but I’m scared. I’m scared of what they will think. I can’t tell my mom that. I really tried to be happy and I was for a month or two, but my mind caught up with me. I’m stuck.