According to them, I’m not depressed. I still laugh and smile and act like my “usual self”. Nevermind that I don’t care about anything anymore.
According to them, I’m not anxious. I’m always the first to volunteer and voice my thoughts and be the social butterfly. It doesn’t matter that doing these things makes me feel like I might be sick or black out.
According to them, mental illness only takes one form. It is concrete. Indisputable.
I guess that’s why I didn’t realize I was sick. Everyone else said I looked healthy, even as the tumor grew.