"I know what conscience is, to begin with. It is not what you told me it was. It is the divinest thing in us. Don't sneer at it, Harry, any more - at least not before me. I want to be good. I can't bear the idea of my soul being hideous." Oscar Wilde (The Picture Of Dorian Gray)

29.9.10

DEPRESSiON

Being depressed is all about the inner self; about searching for it, finding it and then loosing it. It is an endless circle and by the time the common people figure that out, it's too late for suicide and they die of age.

You don't know what depressed is. You may have read about it or seen a couple of movies or known someone that was/is depressed, but you don't know what it is.



Being depressed is not sleeping the right amount of nights, long enough to forget how many nights you skipped in the first place. It is not being able to walk a straight line without falling sideways. It is forgetting who you are, what you do and why. It is why. One, big, W H Y ?
Why are you spacing out? Why do you hear voices? Why do people keep looking at you? Why are you here? Why life? Why not choose death instead?
You don't deserve anything. Not even to be happy. So why are you here, wasting space, money, water and food?

You stop eating, because you forget to. Then you continue with not eating, because it just feels so good. And once it doesn't feel good enough anymore, you can't stop yourself.
All you can think about, is yourself, even though you're the last person you'd take care of. Your thoughts mess with your head, body and soul.
You're dying.

And even though you want to die, you don't even see it's happening already. You'd be a lot happier if you'd realise your dying wish was literally coming true.
You make yourself so important by always thinking everything is about you; people looking, talking, not doing anything... It's all somehow related to your tiny spot in this universe. Stop making the world revolve around you; it doesn't, and it never will.
So you don't tell anyone you got raped, because you don't think you're pretty enough for them to believe you. You're anorexic. Bulimic. You have an abortion. You're alone. All alone.

The pain you feel is real. The fact that you hide from it behind not eating or binging, or purging even, doesn't make it less real.
You're depressed; searching for the inner you.

I don't believe in happiness. No, I believe in the moments in between the moments of unhappiness and depression.
You're searching for yourself, which leaves you with the big W H Y ?'s. You find yourself, which some people might want to call 'happiness', just for the sake of it. But then you loose yourself, which makes you unhappy again and the start for the search of the inner you starts all over again.

This is how everything about yourself, except for one thing, always changes. What remains the same, is the fact that you're always changing.