A lot of people committing suicide recently...
I was upset by the death of the young man from that Disney show... I have an inside joke about him with one of my cousins because we both had a mad crush on him back in middle school. It broke my heart to hear about his passing.
Anyway, it's interesting to see the reaction to these deaths from some of my friends.
The shock.
The wonder.
The theories.
The judgement.
It's so weird.
I also find myself feeling envious of those who don't... understand, who can't fathom the darkness some of us can feel. I'm jealous of that. I'm jealous of sunny people... of people who think things like child abuse and shit like that doesn't exist.
That's a nice world to live in... a nice naive world to live in... a nice normal world to live in. A nice, lovely world I wish I still lived in.
But it doesn't do much for those of us who have to go through life managing our fucking traumas and sadness and... fucked up shit. Sometimes, these sunny people make it a little more difficult for us to function... because they just make us feel so... freakish.
THEY have their shit together, why the fuck can't I?
THEY don't have emotional breakdowns at the sight of a sky-blue truck... what the fuck?
THEY don't turn catatonic after hearing the sound of a group of people laughing.
THEY don't hyperventilate in the privacy of a bathroom stall after being the center of attention for more than twenty minutes. Fuckity fuck!
They're all just so fucking normal... baffled at the thought that others out in the world would prefer to no longer exist than to carry on another second breathing.
They look forward to doing shit like... getting Starbucks in the morning... choosing an outfit for the day... I don't know... I'm not normal or bubbly, so what the fuck do I know? Do they enjoy the thought of shopping for new toasters at Macy's or some shit? Is that normal and sunny? Looking forward to power-hour sales at KOHL'S? Labor Day 48-hour sales at Macy's? I don't fucking know.
They don't freak out over shit like... having to be in a group of people for more than ten minutes... or at the possibility that FUCK! Some random person is going to try and TALK to you... because SHIT! He thinks you're cute... uh oh.
They don't convulse themselves to sleep after their brain decides to take them on a stroll down Really-Fucked-Up-Memory Lane at two in the morning... all because someone wore a red flannel shirt that looked a lot like that red flannel shirt your tormentors tried ripping off your body that one day in 4th grade... that's fun shit to remember at two in the fucking morning.
I'm jealous of that naiveté.
"What sort of inner demons must he have been battling to find that to be his only solution?"
Don't ask that question... the answer's usually... horrible.
Live in your bubble for as long as you can.
Depression's like a virus... once you contract it (often from some mentally disturbed individual), it never leaves your body.
There are periods of remission... where you can function in a somewhat normal manner... feel "normal" shit like happiness and curiosity... but then there are the outbreaks... varying in severity... triggered by random shit. Outbreaks suck dick... take out large chucks of your life... turn it into a big blank in your memory.
What do you mean I only lived for two month in 2011? Most of it is blank? Oh... oh yeah... I spent 10 months locked in my room, laying on my face, crying until blacking out... that's right.
For the most part, times of remission are spent praying to some deity your next outbreak won't be the fatal one.
I can't speak for everyone, but in my case, that's the best I can describe it.
(It's ok guys, I'm ok. I'm a notch above "I just want to be alone, ok?" status. No worries. Promise. Just, like I said, this recent string of suicides has made me think of my own grapples with depression. I also had a late dinner and find myself wide awake, fighting the urge to puke)
I was upset by the death of the young man from that Disney show... I have an inside joke about him with one of my cousins because we both had a mad crush on him back in middle school. It broke my heart to hear about his passing.
Anyway, it's interesting to see the reaction to these deaths from some of my friends.
The shock.
The wonder.
The theories.
The judgement.
It's so weird.
I also find myself feeling envious of those who don't... understand, who can't fathom the darkness some of us can feel. I'm jealous of that. I'm jealous of sunny people... of people who think things like child abuse and shit like that doesn't exist.
That's a nice world to live in... a nice naive world to live in... a nice normal world to live in. A nice, lovely world I wish I still lived in.
But it doesn't do much for those of us who have to go through life managing our fucking traumas and sadness and... fucked up shit. Sometimes, these sunny people make it a little more difficult for us to function... because they just make us feel so... freakish.
THEY have their shit together, why the fuck can't I?
THEY don't have emotional breakdowns at the sight of a sky-blue truck... what the fuck?
THEY don't turn catatonic after hearing the sound of a group of people laughing.
THEY don't hyperventilate in the privacy of a bathroom stall after being the center of attention for more than twenty minutes. Fuckity fuck!
They're all just so fucking normal... baffled at the thought that others out in the world would prefer to no longer exist than to carry on another second breathing.
They look forward to doing shit like... getting Starbucks in the morning... choosing an outfit for the day... I don't know... I'm not normal or bubbly, so what the fuck do I know? Do they enjoy the thought of shopping for new toasters at Macy's or some shit? Is that normal and sunny? Looking forward to power-hour sales at KOHL'S? Labor Day 48-hour sales at Macy's? I don't fucking know.
They don't freak out over shit like... having to be in a group of people for more than ten minutes... or at the possibility that FUCK! Some random person is going to try and TALK to you... because SHIT! He thinks you're cute... uh oh.
They don't convulse themselves to sleep after their brain decides to take them on a stroll down Really-Fucked-Up-Memory Lane at two in the morning... all because someone wore a red flannel shirt that looked a lot like that red flannel shirt your tormentors tried ripping off your body that one day in 4th grade... that's fun shit to remember at two in the fucking morning.
I'm jealous of that naiveté.
"What sort of inner demons must he have been battling to find that to be his only solution?"
Don't ask that question... the answer's usually... horrible.
Live in your bubble for as long as you can.
Depression's like a virus... once you contract it (often from some mentally disturbed individual), it never leaves your body.
There are periods of remission... where you can function in a somewhat normal manner... feel "normal" shit like happiness and curiosity... but then there are the outbreaks... varying in severity... triggered by random shit. Outbreaks suck dick... take out large chucks of your life... turn it into a big blank in your memory.
What do you mean I only lived for two month in 2011? Most of it is blank? Oh... oh yeah... I spent 10 months locked in my room, laying on my face, crying until blacking out... that's right.
For the most part, times of remission are spent praying to some deity your next outbreak won't be the fatal one.
I can't speak for everyone, but in my case, that's the best I can describe it.
(It's ok guys, I'm ok. I'm a notch above "I just want to be alone, ok?" status. No worries. Promise. Just, like I said, this recent string of suicides has made me think of my own grapples with depression. I also had a late dinner and find myself wide awake, fighting the urge to puke)
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