Depressive states is a horrible sensation. And only once you climb out of the pitch black darkness in your mind, looking at the remnants, then you start to think about the aftermath.
Looking at earlier thoughts i decided to write down, it seems really embarassing. I just read the anguish and think. “No no no, it wasnt that bad. I was upset but its not like i was going to do anything about it”. Looking at these personal thoughts and just reading it from a perspective that is emotionally neutral, feels akin to watching someone fall over and just staring for a moment.
At the moment im i a daze. Its just a cacophony of sound and visual brilliance i want to puke. I’m neither extremely happy or sad. And i may be honest to goodness maniac depressive. Soon i’ll be the happiest person in the planet.
I feel if it were true it would be truly hard to treat. For whether or not it was true, id find it hard to rationalise going to anyone to talk about it. Even if i was to tell someone over the phone i was deeply saddened. If they were to walk up to my face and ask me about it, id make some sort of excuse or pretend or rationalise it.
I rationalise everything so much. And it seems the only way i can be honest with myself is to write and write through it. My thoughts can change at a whim, and the very least i can do is just write what i think.
And heres what i think….
Am i depressed, am i not depressed? I dont know how to answer that. I might just be very sensitive to a lot of things. It might be in my nature to by shy at inopportune times. I have a lot of insecurities. Insecurities im not afraid to admit, but too afraid to confirm. Im ashamed of my body. My posture, the way my nose looks. The way my skin complexion looks waxy and dead. I hate my crooked tooth, my tired eyes, the way my forehead has that distinct gordon ramsay wrinkle. I hate that i feel obligated to be discretely vicious to people who make jokes at my expense. I hate going out cause i dont find hanging out with my old friends really that exciting. I’m scared of the fact that i’m unable to find any attraction to any girl. And its not like i find it hard to love. I just dont. Love does not exist in my vocabulary. It is as familar as the taste of air. I fancy, i admire, i also may be aroused. But i dont have that capacity to love another person outside of my family.
I feel constricted. Ive made my bed and i have to sleep in it. The decisions and the things ive said to people i cared or not cared about will stay with me forever. I am inherently petty and selfish.
But, im human. Im 22 years young. I have yet to broaden my worldview. And anxiety and social akwardness will always be a thing. Im not the only one who has to face these problems alone. Everyone my age, my generation, past and future generations will go through something in parallel. They will have their toils and troubles. And they arrived at the end of the path with what they have.
And that makes me feel a little better.