So, a little background on this.
It was written in a school notebook of mine in the year 2008. It's titled the way it is because of when I rediscovered it.
I keep all of my notebooks, ever, and have them compiled in a cardboard suitcase. Occasionally I like to look back on my past in this manner.
And this is how I discovered this bit of prose that I had conveniently forgotten about, in one of my bouts of convincing myself that I'm overdramatic and my life is rainbows and sunshine. I rediscovered this in 2009, triggering an emotional epiphany: that I was not, in fact, overdramatic, and my life was not, in fact, rainbows and sunshine.

I can't remember what spurned me to write this, however it's obvious what it is about. This is how dysthymia, and really, any depressive disorder (and probably any other mood disorder), feels.
I related my feelings to an incident when I was nearly drowned by being swept down a river. I got caught by a current and couldn't fight back. As I was being taken away, my family yelled at me, told me to quit screwing around and get back where they could see me. I tried to call out for help but I was exhausted and constantly swallowing water. And to see that they were not recognizing the signs of drowning... was a killer. It stabbed me straight into my soul.
I luckily managed to cling to a large stick (I didn't weigh a whole lot) and make it to a sandbar.

These days, I feel like I'm drowning again, but as before nobody sees it. They claim I've been very happy and peppy.

When I was a child, my aunt and grandmother thought I was showing the signs of a depressive disorder, but my parents refused to believe this. I've been drowning for a long time, without recognition.

And every day, many people drown in this same manner.