Depression

By Anon. This author would like to invite response pieces.

Doesn’t matter when it strikes, it just matters that it will. I have felt the cold shards of depression in my heart when completely alone and in the middle of a party and when talking to some of my best friends. I don’t know how to make it go away, I don’t know how to solve it. I only know that it’s coming, and when it comes it results in physical tears. Always. But sometimes the physical emotion is not enough, I must wallow in this cold yet empty feeling before I drag myself out of it that I wonder; what if some day I can’t drag myself out of it? The worst thought I’ve ever had, I vocalised. I said to my mother that she should have aborted me. I can only imagine how she must have felt. The second worst thought I’ve ever had was when I was in a swimming pool with some of my closest friends from university. I was in a swimming pool and I wondered what would have happened if I had drowned right then before their eyes. Before they recognised my morbid expression, I quickly adopted an expression of ecstasy.

This is how I get through life. I must fake it, which leads me to wonder who else around me is faking. What if no one is faking? If everyone lived their authentic life, could their friends cope with it? If your friend lived their authentic life, could you cope with it? I like to think I can for many reasons, but one of these days, if I can’t, I do not know what I will do. That thought terrifies me regularly. The only way to refute it is to tell yourself that you are such an excellent friend that everyone is authentic around you. But knowing everyone’s thoughts also drives you a different kind of insane.

Are humans designed to know each other’s thoughts? Sometimes I think we aren’t built to cope with it. Perhaps no human is designed to know the exact emotions of another. But if so then we will never truly know each other, another discomforting thought. We must exist in a happy medium. I find that the best solution is to tell different people separate bits of the whole story, based on experience and understanding. No one can piece together the whole thing, so no one entirely knows how bad it is and therefore no one can worry. Another fear is excessive worrying and at the same time, no one will notice and no one will worry. No one will notice the physical and metaphorical drowning. And yet another bad thought, it is my fault because I don’t open up. A vicious cycle occurs based on excessive worrying and excessive concession. Is it worse to burden someone else with your troubles or is it more selfish to bear them alone?

I end this self-indulgence here, hoping that someone can answer the rhetorical questions that, if I did not contain myself, would form most of my writing.