Depression and Suppression
It's one o'clock in the morning... this is just me being a big old bat again... I started my life, 21 years ago, I felt, talked, laughed, ran, and jumped. There was so much to do and yet so little time. Hmm... Haven't you noticed that things you do today are the same things you do every waking day? I can never imagine myself doing this for the next fifty years. CAN YOU?? There were times when I thought the grass was greener and when the morning breeze was a little cooler. A calm feeling would embrace my body every chance I get to think of that thought. I was so obsessed about having to notice the little things. I thought it could pave the way for contentment to settle in. I woke up thinking that things would be a bit different. But, they were the same. Was it too much to hope for? I believed that it was possible. Both body and soul were tired. I woke up one morning and then that girl was gone. I lost faith.
Now, it takes me 6000 muscles to move my facial nerve. You see, triggering that nerve could cause a sensation and abruptly place a smile on your face. They say life starts at 30 and then again more people are more prone to die at that age. (The surgeon general would say that there is a greater risk for developing diseases, if you're 30 years old or older. I would suggest you have your dinner with your significant others before the Grim Reaper comes your way. You have lived long enough. Cheers to you.) At 21, I find myself with absolutely no reason to live or laugh. Yes, depression is what doctors would like to call it. That's what I'm going through right now, presumably. Only cigarettes get me to sleep and inspire me to do the rest of my daily activities. Sadly enough, those little nicotine things would be the reason I would die early, with the million who pass on everyday. I don't know where those cheerleaders, footballers, clowns and call center agents get the courage to live everyday with such vibrancy and sprite. I wish I could be one of those energetic, free-spirited, determined persons. Where can you buy perseverance? How do you produce a laugh? What compels you to eat? What is it that drives you?
I found the answers to that a few seconds ago. What drives you to wake up? You are alive, and living partners that state. You have to enjoy that gift that is bestowed upon you. I can comprehend what I'm writing here. I do not understand it, nor have the patience to do so. I do not know how to laugh. I do not care for work or friends or family. I care about what I write here; this is the only way that I could express myself. I am unhappy about the manner in which I project my feelings, bear with me, please.
Apathetic, anhedonic, anergic and anorexic. The 4As, yes, that's me. My brain could not think of anything but those words. An-happy is another word I could add. I recall snapshots of me walking beneath trees, panting and laughing for no logical reason. I have friends and foes - all of them would tell you how absurdly happy I get. I miss that feeling. Suppression is when you say you have problems but refuse to talk about it. Certainly, I acknowledge the sadness and anger upsurge however; I could not bring myself to tell anyone about it. I do not know the cause/s; I do know that the effects are deadly. I will be wasting thier time, just giving them a run around. I just don't see the point in talking about it - with anyone. But here I am, broadcasting it through the World Wide Web. Heee!!
This state is driving me crazy. I have a mom who loathes me for living a smoking and drinking life. She has been telling me to be a nurse, and does not want me to work. She has been giving me red, green and yellow light signals and it has increased the intensity of the confusion I am in. My sister started to create strange marks in her forearm using a cutter. She is into "tattooing", sleeping, Good Charlotte, and a boy who mumbles. My best friend, the most crucial person in my highs and downs, is not in good terms with me. A fight, which I unknowingly started and this fight will end when I finally muster up the courage to apologize. I suppose that's ten years from now. My guy friend, who WAS also the love of my life, is so gay he'll tell you what not to wear and how many cans of tuna you should consume in a day so you'd effectively bulk up. My job is too boring that I would have to push myself so I can do the work it requires. The eight hour shift at work seems like a century and the pressure to hit the company goal could cause a heart attack. The coffee shop I hang out at, every afternoon, announced that they would be closing indefinitely. Drinking beer doesn't give the same kick it used to. The worst part is - friends would say they're there for you and when you turn to them, they would not know what to do. That's exactly why I find talking as a maladaptive behavior. The farthest you'll get is to a bar with a beer in your hand and you'll have an old, worn-out, ineffective advice as souvenir.
Replacing you're family is impossible. I could bomb my office, but there's no guarantee that it would kill all the people there. I can think of ways to kill myself. But I didn't give life to me. A guy up in the clouds did, I would like to ask Him why He created me? I don't have a spot to fill here. I'm here, I'm miserable, angry, a bit mad, and sighing has become as natural as blinking. I can feel my heart beat and my eyes are wide open. And when I look in the mirror, I see a person, alive but not living.
It's one o'clock in the morning... this is just me being a big old bat again... I started my life, 21 years ago, I felt, talked, laughed, ran, and jumped. There was so much to do and yet so little time. Hmm... Haven't you noticed that things you do today are the same things you do every waking day? I can never imagine myself doing this for the next fifty years. CAN YOU?? There were times when I thought the grass was greener and when the morning breeze was a little cooler. A calm feeling would embrace my body every chance I get to think of that thought. I was so obsessed about having to notice the little things. I thought it could pave the way for contentment to settle in. I woke up thinking that things would be a bit different. But, they were the same. Was it too much to hope for? I believed that it was possible. Both body and soul were tired. I woke up one morning and then that girl was gone. I lost faith.
Now, it takes me 6000 muscles to move my facial nerve. You see, triggering that nerve could cause a sensation and abruptly place a smile on your face. They say life starts at 30 and then again more people are more prone to die at that age. (The surgeon general would say that there is a greater risk for developing diseases, if you're 30 years old or older. I would suggest you have your dinner with your significant others before the Grim Reaper comes your way. You have lived long enough. Cheers to you.) At 21, I find myself with absolutely no reason to live or laugh. Yes, depression is what doctors would like to call it. That's what I'm going through right now, presumably. Only cigarettes get me to sleep and inspire me to do the rest of my daily activities. Sadly enough, those little nicotine things would be the reason I would die early, with the million who pass on everyday. I don't know where those cheerleaders, footballers, clowns and call center agents get the courage to live everyday with such vibrancy and sprite. I wish I could be one of those energetic, free-spirited, determined persons. Where can you buy perseverance? How do you produce a laugh? What compels you to eat? What is it that drives you?
I found the answers to that a few seconds ago. What drives you to wake up? You are alive, and living partners that state. You have to enjoy that gift that is bestowed upon you. I can comprehend what I'm writing here. I do not understand it, nor have the patience to do so. I do not know how to laugh. I do not care for work or friends or family. I care about what I write here; this is the only way that I could express myself. I am unhappy about the manner in which I project my feelings, bear with me, please.
Apathetic, anhedonic, anergic and anorexic. The 4As, yes, that's me. My brain could not think of anything but those words. An-happy is another word I could add. I recall snapshots of me walking beneath trees, panting and laughing for no logical reason. I have friends and foes - all of them would tell you how absurdly happy I get. I miss that feeling. Suppression is when you say you have problems but refuse to talk about it. Certainly, I acknowledge the sadness and anger upsurge however; I could not bring myself to tell anyone about it. I do not know the cause/s; I do know that the effects are deadly. I will be wasting thier time, just giving them a run around. I just don't see the point in talking about it - with anyone. But here I am, broadcasting it through the World Wide Web. Heee!!
This state is driving me crazy. I have a mom who loathes me for living a smoking and drinking life. She has been telling me to be a nurse, and does not want me to work. She has been giving me red, green and yellow light signals and it has increased the intensity of the confusion I am in. My sister started to create strange marks in her forearm using a cutter. She is into "tattooing", sleeping, Good Charlotte, and a boy who mumbles. My best friend, the most crucial person in my highs and downs, is not in good terms with me. A fight, which I unknowingly started and this fight will end when I finally muster up the courage to apologize. I suppose that's ten years from now. My guy friend, who WAS also the love of my life, is so gay he'll tell you what not to wear and how many cans of tuna you should consume in a day so you'd effectively bulk up. My job is too boring that I would have to push myself so I can do the work it requires. The eight hour shift at work seems like a century and the pressure to hit the company goal could cause a heart attack. The coffee shop I hang out at, every afternoon, announced that they would be closing indefinitely. Drinking beer doesn't give the same kick it used to. The worst part is - friends would say they're there for you and when you turn to them, they would not know what to do. That's exactly why I find talking as a maladaptive behavior. The farthest you'll get is to a bar with a beer in your hand and you'll have an old, worn-out, ineffective advice as souvenir.
Replacing you're family is impossible. I could bomb my office, but there's no guarantee that it would kill all the people there. I can think of ways to kill myself. But I didn't give life to me. A guy up in the clouds did, I would like to ask Him why He created me? I don't have a spot to fill here. I'm here, I'm miserable, angry, a bit mad, and sighing has become as natural as blinking. I can feel my heart beat and my eyes are wide open. And when I look in the mirror, I see a person, alive but not living.
