Friday, April 3, 2015

Anthropomorphizing my depression.

I sometimes find myself anthropomorphizing my depression. I sometimes also do this to plants. Every-time I drink juice or eat fruit I think I should give some to the plant - because why wouldn't they want a treat? 

With depression, it helps me describe things in a way that may seem sinister and poetic, but that fundamentally allows me to fully explain the way in which it feels I'm being taken. 

I drew this today.


This is what he wants:

I want your energy. I want to suck it from your bones and leave you reeling in your exhaustion. I want all of your ambition. I want you to struggle day-to-day and think of the future as an insurmountable obstacle course. I want your connections. I want to make it difficult for you to relate to those around you, I want you to self-isolate and retract. I want you to feel the weight of guilt. I want you to know you're letting down everyone around you. Your mother wonders what she did wrong that made you so sad. You're hurting your mother; Your sweet, kind mother. I want you to be uncontrollably angry at noting in particular. I want you to resent life. I want you to carry your shame. You aren't pretty. You should be. Girls should be pretty. Your body is disgusting. Nobody wants it. Nobody wants you. You degrade yourself constantly and you're wrong to think this is all in your mind, you deserve every bit of this pain. This pain is self-inflicted because you know you're fundamentally shitty. Sometimes, I might give you a good day. This highest of highs where you feel in control of yourself and your choices. This good day will serve me well, as you'll often wonder if your one good day is how other people feel all the time. It is. Their life is a series of good days. They have enjoyment. Daily. Your life is a series of shitty ones. A literal life sentence. I've taken hope from you. All the word is now is a slap in the face. You haven't really noticed, but I've removed hope from you over time, and now you don't even know what it feels like. You wouldn't even recognize it. I live for taking these things from you. They fill me up. And you die from every extraction. You are a defective being, longing to self-destruct. 

Isn't that more evocative than just saying, "I'm depressed you guys."

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