Dating while depressed

What I thought was kindness was misinterpreted—a miscommunication that occurs when you don’t really know someone.

Your depression isn’t anyone else’s, but if you are looking to grow a relationship with someone, give them the opportunity to know you first: Warts-and-all comes later if the other person is worthy of your vulnerabilities.

Some days, getting out of bed is impossible, while other days I’m reminded that I’ve got a nice life. Dating means my burden gets to become someone else’s for a little bit, and it’s hard to comprehend why anyone would want to join a depressed person on that particular ride.

We will be forced to leave things early sometimes, I will cry, I will disengage, you will think it’s you, do you still want to hold hands?

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There was the time in kindergarten when I looked up at the sky and asked why I’ll always be a little “off,” the time when my crush repeatedly asked why I was sad all the time in second grade, and the My Chemical Romance songs that resonated a little too deeply within me in junior high.

This has happened innumerable times, especially when it comes to any commitment involving the evening, the weekend, whenever the sun is up, whenever the sun is down, bars, movies, restaurants, and the planet Earth.

I became particularly good at creating excuses (heads up for family and friends: there is a gas leak) which once left me with the nickname “Squirmy Shermie,” which I assume was supposed to be an endearing term about being a damn flake.

Instead, I've found that meeting people in venues I’d normally occupy anyway helped alleviate certain stresses.

I go to a lot of concerts, and striking up conversations there felt easier—there’s a mutual interest and I don’t have to force myself to meet Travis No-Last-Name at a fancy restaurant.

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