I am starting to believe my depression is coming to an end. I have reached self discovery. I have once again realized who I am. I am a crazy kid to be vague but if you want me to be descriptive the I am a crazy kid who is too complex to be described in a few paragraphs. I am proud of my morbid mentality, brought on by my tendency to non-conform to society. I love depressing things and depression itself in a poetical way. Speaking of poetry, I am a gothic poem writer, with gothic poetry you can make depression so descriptive and put double meanings into it, but I find it excruciating to convey the message of happy because itís just so boring. I find happy to be expected of someone. I am excited by blood, sexual or otherwise. I get a rush from pain. I get angered when people judge me for my fetishes instead of my overall personality; yes Iím a baby fur, deal with it. I get upset over little things, I.e. being Goth I donít like to be called emo when I am a little moodyÖwow I digressed. Since my first days joining adisc I have started to think a lot about my childhood which spiraled me into a major depression, prompting me to fake a suicide attempt just to see if people would care if I was gone, Iím not proud of what I did. I know I have lost a lot of respect people have had for me, but the only explanation I have to try and justify my actions is that I got paranoid. With extreme cases of depression, strange thoughts go through my head and I start to believe the worst, that everybody hates me and Iím not wanted, but as a result of what I did, I feel like a child ashamed to cry. I became a participant in something I once stood against. But what Iím trying to say is that depression and vodka does not make for a good outcome, Iím surprised I still have friends after that incident. Simply, my childhood sucked. I wasn't as extroverted as I now wish I was. And the falling out I had with my depression between ages 13 to 16 ended my childhood with a negative impression. It feels like trying to be happy now would be band-aiding the issue at hand (as in I can make the outside look nice but the inside is suffering). my dad left when I was about 10, so I don't know what paternal love feels like subsequently I have a fear of being alone( no friends, no one to talk to, no one to love me). To be honest my dad never showed me much affection and love that a baby needs as a child, which makes me want to regress. But with all the bad things my dad has done, I still love and respect him, why is that?
I remember talking to someone who I was sharing my poetry with and my past. He asked me ďif youíre so depressed why donít you just kill yourself?Ē I told him that people expect me to kill myself. I am determined to wait out this storm and shove my ability to live right in their smug faces! And when they fall from their life styles dependant on immediate gratification I will be the one laughing. And poetry helps too. My poetry requires so much passion and energy I donít have enough strength left over to pull a trigger, but saying poetry is the only thing that is keeping me alive would be a hyperbole
Before I continue my thoughts I want to digress again. One of my friends once asked me why I wasnít looking for a significant other. I didnít know at the moment but through intense though I have discovered the reason. To be candid Iím looking for Mr. Right. I feel that the love I have to share is the only thing left that I have that is pure and I donít want to waste it on a million mr. right nowís. But coming to the center of the shrubbery maze,
Friends are another thing that is keeping me alive, although Iím not solely dependant on them enough to leech off of them to attain self satisfaction. But when Iím depressed I tend to push my friends away, then try to hold them close, hoping theyíd tell me things are ok. I also I tend to believe that the only reason they talk to me is because the feel it is an obligation rather than want. Pertaining to the topic of friends I am starting to believe I should leave discussions about my psychological issues between me and a counselor. I was talking to one of the people I lied to about faking my suicide, I apologized, and the conversation spiraled into one were he analyzed me and told me nothing I wanted to hear( read, we were in a chartroom). He agreed that I was antisocial and he said I had childlike tendencies. But what he said subsequent to his analysis made me second guess the plans I have for my future. He said it would be unlikely for me to achieve a romantic relationship with this guy that I love.
Baz luhrman said in the song 'everybody is free to wear sunscreen' "Be careful whose advice you buy, but be patient with those who supply it. Advice is a form of nostalgia; dispensing it is a way of wishing the past from the disposal--wiping it off, painting over the ugly parts, and recycling it for more than it's worth."
Pertaining to my situation I don't know whether I should believe my friend or what feel. I still find it easier to do nothing, that way nothing is lost and nothing is gained. So familiar is that action, I await if with a loving embrace. When I talk about my problems with my friends, I feel like they just think ďhere we go againĒ so I hold my tongue, then I start to feel ashamed and want to hide my head in the ground.
That seems all that I can explain for now