Love is kind of crazy with a spoopy little girl like you.
Spoopy! — Classics IV, “Spoopy”
…What, only me?
I didn’t realize that there would be so many thoughts. I figured depression was an empty and dark hole in which you sank. Instead my mind feels like a fireworks show, the sparks and explosions shooting flame into the sky and lighting it up with my worst moments and greatest fears. Things I haven’t done, that I regret doing, that I’ll never do fly up into the space between my ears and expand with a cacophonous thump and a bright flash that says I am not who I should be. I am a waste. I can’t ever be what anyone needs or expects.
And just like that the thought is gone again. It’s replaced by another and then another, each one more horrible than the last. I will want to be dead and I will fear my eventual death and I will nearly sob over the things I said and left unsaid to people I love more than anything. “I’m sorry,” I say to my mind over and over again as it flashes these regrets. “I don’t know what to say. I’m sorry. Please stop.”
It is because it’s cold outside or because it’s dark or because I haven’t worked hard enough tonight or I’ve worked too hard or I took my meds too early or I took them too late or I haven’t finished my to-do list or I’m scared I’ll start drinking again or because I’ve gone months without speaking to a friend who used to be so close or because of one stupid utterance when I was seventeen or perceived slights against the world.
But the truth is that it doesn’t matter why, because I’m here now. Depression is not quiet. It’s so loud that it never gives you a moment’s rest. It is physically and mentally taxing. Thursday night goes on and I’m wide-eyed on the couch as the fireworks of every bit of myself I hate explode in my head.
No one ever told me about the din. No one ever said depression is deafening. And once you’re there, it’s hard to find quiet again.
The one thing that I’ll say about where we are as a culture now is that people for some reason think the negative stuff is more real than the positive, but it’s not. They inherently have no value other than the value that we put on them. And believe me, I’m a cynical comedian, but I just think there’s enough fucking negativity in the world. If you just focused on the negative shit that’s happening in the world, and the negative shit in your life, you wouldn’t get out of bed. — Chris Hardwick is dropping some truth on Splitsider today.
Sometimes I think of all the beautiful people I’ve known, seen, heard about, or read articles on in Popular Mechanics and I get angry that I’m currently like 90% Oreos and 10% self-loathing.
Then I remember that my gross body is covered in a crazy good Jurassic Park t-shirt and that I can dance around my apartment to mid-90s techno and life gets a little bit better.