Depression is crippling, blinding, and selfish. But depression is home. It’s home because it’s where I’m welcome. It’s where my best pain is, the old friend. The friend you don’t think about when you’re in a good mood, but the same friend that welcomes you when you retreat into your cave, sometimes the only part of ourselves that we truly know.
Depression is terrible. But I wouldn’t have it any other way. I wouldn’t know how to function without it.
For the sufferers, it is an innate emotion that acts as a filter of the world. Anything can trigger this snowball effect of dejection that seems to only worsen as our peers try to help us. In the abyss, the darkness, when it strikes, we aren’t “normal”. We can’t be funny. We can’t be cool. We can’t be the person that people know us to be when we’re not shrouded in our darkness. I don’t want to be funny. I don’t want to be the interesting, cool guy. I don’t want to be the guy that knows how to strike up a conversation with the really pretty girl at the coffee shop. Sorry Miss. I’m on another planet right now. Perhaps I can swoon you another day.
I can’t be a good human.
The darkness acts as its own catalyst. Creativity can seem opaque without a dark world to tell tales from. Beauty in pain isn’t as beautiful without our internal darkness. Music tends to lose its sting, its poignancy. It’s the empathy that I don’t want to lose and my dark void keeps me connected with the world. If that makes sense.
I’ve been on a long streak of contentment going days without falling into outer space. I felt “cured”. I felt confident. I even felt the ability to get off those damn drugs but they’re the only thing keeping me sane. but just when I’ve convinced myself that I don’t need drugs anymore, I allow myself to fall into the vortex that I know so much. I hate saying I need pills to keep me from falling into my beautiful abyss, but as of now this is the way it must be.
I wish I could promise everyone that tomorrow I will get back on stage and be funny again. I wish I could promise the world that my antics will always be around and that every time I walk into a room I’m going to be the exact same version I was when you last saw me. I wish I could promise you that I’ll be just as excited and pumped about life as everyone else seems to be and label my Sunday afternoons as #sundayfunday. Indeed, I wish I didn’t prompt people to ask if everything is alright with me. The answer is no. No, everything isn’t alright with me. Yet, everything is absolutely fine. I wish I could be exactly what people wanted me to be…but that’s depressing to think about.
Everyone has a different view on depression. Some people see it as something that can be treated. Some see it as something that we inflict upon ourselves. Some see it as an excuse. I say it’s all of the above, yet none of them at all. I believe depression simply is. I wouldn’t wish this phenomena upon anyone, but I wouldn’t take it away from anyone either. I believe from the depths of the darkness of our abyss comes the most beautiful and poetic heart songs known to man. For me, my days of melancholy loner-ism is all I’ve known since childhood. It is terribly great, but depressing.
Go humans, go.