MUSINGS OF A DEPRESSED MANIAC
I think an introduction is proper…
Hey there, whoever you are.
So, this is my story. My sob story. I know, no one gives a shit about sad stories like this, but I’m gonna tell it. Actually, it’s more of a compilation of my crazy, disoriented and disorganized thoughts than it is a sad, sob story.
Yeah, you got that right.
I’m depressed. And, I think I might be going mad. In a way. It’s hard to explain, but I can feel myself slipping away from the grasp reality has on me. This haunting darkness is slowly driving me crazy.
Crazy or not, I’m human. And it’s surprising too, you know when you suddenly realize that being human sometimes does more harm than good. That discovery just does something to you. In my own case, it made me lose the will to actually try to live a meaningful life. Because, seriously, does it even matter at all? Does anything matter? Well, my answer is and always has been a big NO. It doesn’t matter to me if I live or die, or if I am rich or poor, life fucking sucks, and humans can be such a shitty race of shitty people.
(I have no bad intentions but let’s be honest here, it’s the truth. We are so full of shit, human shit to be precise. That sounds gross to me but seriously, your tummy is full of shit, human shit. Eeewww)
At least, that is what I used to think, and I still do, sometimes. Whatever, it’s not like it matters, but then again, it actually matters. Do you really think so? Okay, that’s it. Chapter closed.
It can be so scary, you know?
Living, having to go through life like everything is just a piece of cake, (what cake is your favorite? Mine is strawberry. Well, that was ten years ago, now my favorite is NOTHING!) trying to meet up to everyone’s castle-high expectations of me and at the same time, doing everything I can to create a perfect and fulfilling life of happiness and peace for myself. It all is tiring.
And, no matter what I do to escape the reality of life or the woes of being human, it is an impossible feat to achieve, because at the end of it all, life is as real as my human flesh is, or my skin color, or better still, my mental illness and I have to face it. Deal with it. Either good or bad. Life is my karma and I’m not happy to say it has always been a bitch to me.