Confessions From Depression

Countless hours of meticulous observations and grandiose complements in which my only definite conclusion is obstinate hypocritical naivety found in abundance in the teenage social scene. Go away. Why do you say that I’m depressed like its some sort of obscure illness? Depression is a real human sensation, so why not embrace it? Breathe in every breath of infinite sadness and pessimism. We too often fight our instincts because we feel that they are not “normal”. How can they stop this monster I’ve created? Conformists. Why is it that when you are happy, you have something, but when you are sad you are searching for something. Is happiness greed? I have to take some fucking pill to “balance” my mental process…to make the pain easier, the harsh reality. Anxiety is a completely different monster. This monster evolved from my melancholy; at least I think it did. Everything changes into something else. Depression into anxiety. Love into hate. Optimism into pessimism. Doom? Fate? We are supposed to constantly reevaluate and question our beliefs if we are to truly understand our minds. Am I questioning too much? Maybe Nietzsche was right. Who’s to say, it doesn’t really matter. The story continues; we search. We find something that makes us “happy”, something to fill the void and eliminate the nightmares. There is a possibility that maybe WE were right. WE become addicts; addicted to happiness. We are always addicted to something; it’s just a matter of what is deemed acceptable by society. Fuck society. Every addiction is the same…we keep doing it because we like it. Drugs, sex, work, sports, depression…doesn’t it feel good to be bad? Sometimes we forget how great it is to do something that you know others think is wrong. That’s why you do it, don’t you? These addictions are not ordinary; they are different. They add change to our lives. The routine is broken. The routine is impossible. You lose something in the routine…sanity. My mind is a mess. I write and write hoping to discover something new. When I do, I will probably stop writing, at least about YOU. YOU trap me. I told YOU I didn’t want to talk about it, but I really do. I want to confront YOU, but I’m too indecisive. I guess that’s why I’m still pondering. They tell me to go to therapy. Therapy is only a short-term solution. You are all such idiots, but I wish you had come over by now. I told you to go away, but I didn’t mean it. Stop killing me with your naivety. The casket is empty; all I have to do is fall in. Why can’t we be children again? No knowledge of self, just existing. Somebody just solve the problem. Without my drugs I feel so alive. I’m missing something every time I do drugs, but it’s so fun that it doesn’t matter. Give me more time to evolve. Maybe I found it already, but I rejected it. How would I know? Please come visit…it’s the only thing that makes a difference. Nothing to say, I don’t blame him. What do you say to someone who has lost his mind? Advice? Easier said than done. I try to rationalize these thoughts, and this is what I get…a ramble of words. Now I’m back at the beginning again. Somebody help.