Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

World Mental Health Awareness Day: What Depression feels like (for me).

Depression sinks into your very soul, and you stop knowing how to love yourself; the thought just isn’t fucking there, and to even hear it, write it, be surrounded by the constant reminders of “Love yourself” does nothing when you feel as if you need that self love to EARN the love of others. People with depression put much more stock into what others say and think about them versus what they think of themselves. That concept of self love? Do you realize how completely IMPOSSIBLE it SEEMS to someone with depression? Of course self-love is real, and so very important, but seems like utter BULLSHIT to someone with depression. “Why the fuck should I love myself? What have I done to deserve any love?” Those are the thoughts that LIVE inside the mind. Everybody feels those thoughts once in awhile, everybody feels down and useless and yes, we all bend and break and regret and wish for change and a chance to do it over, but people with depression LIVE that. EVERY. SINGLE. SECOND. And sure, in moments they can feel brave, strong, and as if the fight is worth it, but those moments are so, so hard.

As a friend to someone with depression, do not ever say “This shit is getting old.” You’ve only seen the surface, and yes it isn’t fair for a friend to have to ALWAYS deal with someone who is constantly down in the dumps, but if you say that line you are pretty much ensuring some major self-hatred in the future. People with depression understand how much of a burden they can be, how much they place onto others, and how unfair that is.

THAT ALSO ADDS TO THE NEGATIVE/DEPRESSING FEELINGS.

And asking “Well why are you depressed” is an oxymoron; there is no real answer, and thinking about it makes the person feel even worse; they have no “real” reason to feel bad, and that makes the guilt even worse. So what can you do for someone who seems to be suffering from depression? Exist to them. Do not try to take them out of there comfort zone in an attempt to make them “change”. By saying they need change, you enforce the idea that they are broken, which they ARE NOT. They aren’t depressed because they stay in, watch movies, don’t want to go out, don’t want to drink, etc etc. By forcing a change in habit you are forcing a person to believe that to be happy, they HAVE to conform to a new way of life. They just want to FEEL NORMAL DOING EVERYTHING. That is it. Plain and simple. The depressed want to be able to listen music, write a song, go for a walk without feeling so damn, fucking morbid about it. They want to feel what others feel, to feel as if they aren’t wasting time, wasting space, wasting away for nothing. The problem is they never can accept that they need to just do what fulfills them; that whole “do whatever makes you happy” line. Depression means when you find something that makes you happy, you feel GUILTY about it, like why do you deserve something like this? Why do you deserve to smile? To laugh?

THAT IS THE CONSTANT THOUGHT PROCESS FOLKS.

Everything becomes a big question of why why why and o me me me. And to top it all off, they realize how selfish that sounds, to only think about themselves, how this process of constantly feeling as if you deserve nothing is actually dragging down those closest to you, and makes depression a self-fulfilling prophecy. So, to recap all of that: People with depression feel hopeless, and because of that they feel guilty. The guilt is what really kills; guilt of not DESERVING LOVE, guilt of not BEING NORMAL, and also the guilt of not having a REAL REASON to feel depressed. How should you help alleviate this guilt? Try doing something for them that THEY want to do. Go see that movie they mentioned, just because. Grab a bite to eat somewhere they like. Try to bend a little to what they want, what they feel comfortable with, and ease them into new situations. Let them see that what THEY want to do has merit, isn’t weird or strange, and that they can smile without feeling like they aren’t deserving of it. Start small, don’t expect big changes, and don’t expect this whole new person. Put value into what they love, even if they won’t admit they love it, which they won’t because they won’t feel as if they deserve to, but they need to know that it’s all OKAY. Depression takes away the feeling that who we are matters, and breaks us down until we believe we did nothing but waste the time of others, and we need to end that wastefulness ASAP.

Be patient, be kind, remind people how much they matter, how much they mean to the world. Sure, they may not believe you at first (and they won’t) but just hearing it gives pause, gets the gears turning, and for a few precious  moments someone can escape from depression and feel as if the world isn’t crashing down around them. A few more moments like that, and suddenly your head is above water more often than under, and you realize that sure, maybe I can’t breathe underwater like the rest of the fish, but holy shit I can swim!

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“I’ve never known where I was going, I just knew I had to keep moving. But even without a destination in mind, I think I always sort of knew this is where I’d end up. In the end, we all reach the end we were destined for.”

I caught up to you, on the last train of the night. For me, it’s the last train home. But where is this train taking you? I can tell it’s not taking you home, but it’s still the last train, so where is it you want this train to take you? 

~Beyond the tracks, past the city lights, a place where not even the stars can be seen. I just need to find a place where the world can’t see me… because if the world can’t see me, that would mean I couldn’t see myself, right? That’s the only place left where I’d want to go, a place where I never had to worry about seeing who I am…a place where I could pretend I don’t exist, that I never existed in the first place…I want to find myself in a world without a shred of me…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

And I know I’d waste my last words on something stupid, like “I’m sorry,” or “I never stopped loving you.”

Another day, another bottle’s contents swirling in my stomach, melting away the anxiety and replacing it with a physical sensation akin to choking. Or perhaps my throat is actually swollen shut? My lungs might be filling up with cheap liquor and cigarette smoke, leaving no room for something as silly as a chemical reaction turning oxygen into carbon dioxide. Perhaps that’s for the best, letting my words die in my chest before they find purchase on my breath, saving me from making another mistake, since I’m sure I’d just waste my final moments trying to tell you something, even though there’s not a single fucking thing you want to here from me…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“My chemical makeup makes it impossible to forget you, but I’m hoping that with time I’ll remember the me that existed without you..”

There is no happiness in the world, just a series of paths that grow progressively darker as more time passes. In the end, it culminates into something so black, you can’t see anything moving forward, and you can’t see anything when you look back, so your left choking on empty memories, and in that dark womb you’ll wonder if anything has ever happened to you that would have made life worth experiencing this cruel, crushing, relentless weight… And even at the end, when I have nothing left but pain and regret, I close my eyes and somehow catch a glimpse of who I used to be. It’s only a reflection, but it’s real, and I know that at some point in my life I was able to smile…but this is a reflection, so I can’t ignore the eyes in which I see the reflection… At the end of all things, where I’m alone in a universe that doesn’t care, I can’t go to sleep without seeing your face…and it hurts…it hurts so goddamn much…

Posted in My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“I’m failing. Everything that I am; body, mind, spirit, and all the other shit in between, I am a failure.”

I can’t resist the urge to break. It’s almost like a need, a physical itch that demands I scratch it with a freshly sharpened pocket knife.

I hate this feeling.

I am filled up with things and stuff instead of love and warmth, and it hurts. I want to cry. Every day I want to do nothing else but cry. I scream at myself in the car until the stares from strangers drives me into a deep enough shame that I choke on my stupidity. I want to be numb, so I take these pills. I want to forget, so I do these drugs. I want to erase myself from this world, so I spend as much time as I can on my own. I want to die, so I research methods of suicide and write notes for the police, my parents, and everyone else. I want to suffer, so I make sure God can do nothing but hate me. I want…I want out of this cycle…I want to live and smile and have hope…I want to not eat until I’m sick, throwing up in the bathroom, returning from every meal with a fever…I want to stop being so lazy and tired, to find the motivation to move my stupid body, to make it react, to force it awake…I want to find love for myself, any reason to love me at all…I want to do something with the love others have given me aside from ripping it up in front of their faces…I want to be proud, to make others proud of me…I want to exist without wishing I didn’t exist…I want to exist without thinking I have to suffer for my existence…I want that, all of that…but I did it again. In the time between my millionth plan to become a better person and lunch, I’ve tossed it all away again…again and again and again…all that planning, the time and energy and effort, and all of it wasted again…once again I did nothing…once again I managed to find a new low…again and again and again…I don’t want anymore, never again…I don’t want to suffer, and I don’t want to die…and I don’t want to live…so what can I do?

What can a loser like me do…

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

I don’t know where I’m coming from, and I don’t care where I’m heading. I wish I had the strength to just…stop.

I’ve spent the past 6 years trying to erase everything.

If our lives are homes that grow with time, than what I have been doing is leaving the front door unlocked, every window open, and I couldn’t even wait for the world to rip out anything of value, so I actively participated in the pillaging, until nothing of value remained.

I’m an empty house, stripped bare from 6 years of trying to erase whatever we shared, and I shared it all, so it all came down.

20 years of life that I remember, and each memory has now be drowned, and it only took 6 years to destroy whatever I used to be, so the work is done…right?

Yes, that must be rightbut if that’s true…

~Why am I still breathing?~

Posted in My Daily Adventures, My life - Written by God, produced by 21st Century middle America, and lived by me, myself, and I., The Modern Classics, Uncategorized

“Raking away at already red wrists, as if self inflicted scars are the latest fashion trend, I’m racing towards another round of awkward conversations about an imaginary cat, a pair of clumsy feet, and a person who stopped caring a long time ago.”

Someday you’ll come to understand how I feel. You’ll wake up, and before you even get the chance to roll out of bed, an intense self-loathing will be simmering right beneath your skin. You won’t be able to make sense of it, and with every passing second the pressure of being alive will grind your ribs into chalk, leaving your heart entirely exposed. Nothing that you are experiencing will make any sort of sense. The stale apartment air will have raked away at your arms, leaving them as withered husks, floating as useless air, unable to hold on to even the lightest trace of hope. A guilt will begin to gnaw away at stomach lining, and your hands will prove even more useless as you fail to hold back the flood of doubt, fear and rage that comes roaring through those new holes in your humanity. With everything that you once called your own breaking rank in a mad dash to get out, the unavoidable emptiness of being alone will begin to sink in, and if it wasn’t for the fact that your autonomic nervous system was a thing, you would have given up swallowing air, as every mouthful is just another tablespoon of bubble gum flavored cough syrup; another poor attempt at drowning out the pain of living without love.