Sorry, But She’s Really Ugly

Douglas. I thought we were friends and you had faith in me.




She could pass by me when my eyes are closed and I’d still know her. She is that ugly. She is really ugly. I feel her ugliness. I smell it. I could never mistake it for anything else. She could never cover it up with makeup. Makeup makes it even worse; because it attracts people to her ugliness.

Please don’t get offended by my words. I’m not even being mean; not even toning anything down. She’s ugly when she wakes up, when she takes her bath, when she cooks, when she reads, when she sleeps – every time. I know this because I dated her.

I know she sounds like a really horrid person (which she is), but she’s good at something not many others are – she knows how to stick close to you. When I feel like no one else cares for me. She shows up. I remember the first day I met her. I was really young. Everyone was celebrating something (which I suppose was) spectacular, and I felt left out and relegated. I sat at a corner in my compound and she walked in.

‘Hey’ she said. I lifted my head.

Hello’ I answered and went back to thinking.

‘Are you sad?’ she said.

Yes.’ I replied.

‘Well, I am depression. Can I sit with you?’ she said. She never smiles.

Even though she was really ugly. I felt like she got me. So I said, ‘Yes, sure’

And she sat with me. And sat with me for 10 years.

What can I say about Depression. She comes to me when I’m downest and takes me even further down. She hugs me while we plunge beneath just so I won’t feel too woozy. She had a casket of ballads in which we’d bury ourselves when she visits. I hated her visits, but I never used to stop her. We would lay awake at night, lying side by side, staring at nothingness and wishing for nothingness. She had a way of forming my thoughts, and so she’d play this game where she’d suggest things as ugly as herself to me. I hated those thoughts, but I never used to stop her.

My friends and family hated her so much. ‘She’s toxic! Look at your skin; your eyes! They look so pale! She never lets you come out into the sun.’  Yes, my very existence was becoming moldy, and the few times when I came out, people would stay far away from me.

I would get Whatsapp messages, ‘Are you fine? You’re not looking like yourself!’ And then those who knew her would ask, ‘Are you fine. You are looking like depression’ (This is newspeak for ‘you look depressed’).

But yes, I began to look like her. I became ugly, just like her. Even if I tried to smile, I could not.

I could have passed by you when your eyes were closed and you’d still know me. I was that ugly. I was really ugly. You’d feel my ugliness. You’d smell it. You could never mistake it for anything else. I could never cover it up with makeup. Makeup made it even worse; because it attracted people to my ugliness.

Depression is ugly. And she makes everyone who welcomes her, ugly like her.

Now, I’m beautiful and one day I’ll tell you about Joy; my new girlfriend.

But for now, Depression is single, and she’s roaming around, knocking on doors. You’ll do well to latch and bolt!


Douglas. I thought we were friends and you had faith in me.


I'd love to hear your thoughts!

Discover more from Adeboro Odunlami

Subscribe now to keep reading and get access to the full archive.

Continue Reading