I didn’t want to do it

I gripped the steering wheel of my car. It was very late and I was an hour from home. All I had to do, was turn the ignition and make my way home but I knew if I touched that key, I wasn’t going to make it. 

A sense of fear washed over me. I knew that there was some foreign part of my brain that was capable, even desiring to swerve my car off the road.

I didn’t want to do it. 

It was the depression, it had taken over control of my brain and it was TELLING me, that it was all pointless and that I should do it. I didn’t believe it and I fought the urge, but alas, it was too strong. 

I couldn’t stay, I couldn’t go. 

Amazingly, a fresh thought peeked through the hurtful, pain-fuelled, tortured depression. 

“Call Ya Mate.”

It was very late at night. I didn’t want to burden anyone with my predicament so I made a snap and sent it to the group chat.

“Boys, I don’t want you to worry about me, but I’m a bit stuck and I need help.”

“I. need. help.”

Within seconds, I had 3 friends on the line, each one fully there for me, determined to help me get home. 

I don’t know if it was saying those words, or if it was knowing that there were people who would be there for me when I needed them, but my brain won that battle against the depression, and I made it home, safe and sound.  

Thanks to my mates.