How to be depressed

For all people not knowing what happens or goes on in the mind and life of a depressed person: here’s the 101..

First things first. You start off by sleeping at 6 in the morning until 4 in the afternoon. Get up raising your eyebrows in a welcoming gesture to the dark clouds that surround you and the suffocating fog that occupies your mind. Don’t get out to get fresh air. If you must, limit yourself only to go buy alcohol and cigarettes*, and occasionally a loaf of bread and some cheese which you’ll then live from the rest of the week. Oh and noodles, also do the job. Spasm out every once in a while to spend excessive portions of money on healthy and exclusive foods to then cook yourself a luscious and elaborate dinner, which you will stuff yourself so full with, so that the rest of the week you will punish yourself for feeling fat by eating just grilled cheese sandwiches again.

Lash out at everyone you love, to then cry yourself asleep, realizing how you’re all alone in the world and have nothing to live for, because you don’t deserve to exist.

Don’t finish anything you ever start, whether it’s a formal obligation like school or passionate ambition like writing a book. Make sure to satisfy the necessity to confirm that you’re an all time failure at all things you attempt.

*{editor’s note: wrote this 5 years ago, I don’t smoke anymore}

 

Disclamer: This is of course not an actual guide on how to be depressed. Please note that you may choose however you want to be about it. I wrote this purely from my own experiences with depression. Yes, I am that open about it. No, I don’t care what anyone thinks of it.

Emotional slavery

It has always been like this and it will always be like this. Men just want me to fulfill some kind of fetish or fantasy. I’m a challenge, a trophy to them. Once won, it’s done. Nothing left but to polish and admire from time to time.

I am not worth any trouble. I am not worth any effort. I am not worth the time or thought. I am not worth to work or try for after the initial goal is achieved. I am not worth to be loved, that’s why I compensate with over-loving others. So at the end, the general love balance is still evened out somehow. I always put in more of myself because I already know I can’t count on anyone filling in the gaps for me. What I anticipate for others, can’t be done in return, because people would have to care and understand too much, too far out of their comfort zone.

I’m supposed to be satisfied and even impressed by little irregularities that might flatter me. I may not receive grand gestures or even just consistencies, and I may not ask for or expect them. I may not express any disappointment, or criticism on how unfair and unbalanced the reality of my relationship is. I should count myself lucky, as difficult to love as I am, that people put up with me as it is. I feel as though I buy people’s love and affection, care and understanding, time and attention, paying with everything I am and have… getting just less than the bare minimum in return. Emotional slavery.

Why am I like this?

If you expect something from me, I will automatically care.

So when you tell me you were waiting all night for my message, I will feel bad for falling asleep. Even though I owe you nothing, barely know you, have all the right to sleep whenever I want or need to (especially seeing as I struggle with falling asleep). So I should be happy I dozed off so relatively easily. But, you showed you cared and that it bothered you. You articulated expectation, you were disappointed by something I did (or didn’t) that had no real direct correlation or connection to you. I will still care, feel bad, guilty, inclined to fix it or make it up to you. Did I mention I barely know you?

Why am I like this? (and seemingly only I in this whole wild world) Because I know how it feels to care and not be cared about, to grow attached a little too quickly and cultivate rapidly expanding expectations based on a needle point sized probability of reality. I have been mistreated, dismissed, disappointed, led on, kept in the dark, lied to and cheated on so much and many times. Still I will always (regrettedly to my own ego and self loving properties) believe in the best of people, hope and pray for the best in their lives, give another chance each time the former expires, let people cross lines I’ve chalked down in blood, keep giving more of myself even when I clearly receive nothing in return, pretend I’m okay with what happens while I’m dying inside. Why? Why am I like this?

I am care. The very definition of sensitivity. In both its light as also dark magic. Now I only have to learn how to apply this all to myself. And as I tred the silver silk line that is this process, I slip every other step, back into familiar default patterns. Two steps ahead, always followed by one backwards. Still moving forward, though, through constant setbacks. Crawling through layers, scratched by the cracking of surfaces I break through and rise up from, ready to fall all the way back for the slightest sign of care from anyone who’s willing to show it. Not out of desperation for attention, rather despair for the acknowledgment and existence of unconditional love. Not because of weakness, but from the urge to mean to others what I wish I could mean to myself.

Pursuit

In the pursuit of my dreams and growth, all I remember hearing was how people were sad about where I’m going and will miss the way things were with me.
Not everyone is willing or able to join my journey. Nobody but me has to be.
Just don’t be surprised that I won’t feel sad for where I’m going, because it will bring me further and forward. Also, the way things are with me will never be the same.

I will always strive for better.

Love, kindness and maybe art

I will sleep when I need to
Leave me alone
With your structure and standards
With your routines and rules
System this, regulation that
I will live as my
Body, mind and spirit
Feel adequate so
I live to heal and grow
Feed my soul
Nothing of this world constructed
By mankind other than kindness
Love and maybe art

Are in which I’d want to take part
Or enclose in my heart
Leave me out of your
Over socialized society
With only lonely people
Attached to detachment
Plus vice versa
Pretending, lying, masks on, dying
Always crying
Never showing
Always trying
Never knowing
The only life I’m in
Is of learning and growing
Not surviving ongoing
For flying and soaring
Leave me out of your life
Of grids and boxes
Of lines
I want shapes and colors
Unnaturally
Inexplicable
And unpredictable
Keep the organized
The crime and cruelty
The steps and plans and forms
The maps, the can’ts and won’ts
I will not ever participate to conform
Bury me wherever you need to
My being will burn either way
My scars will guide
Towards a brighter day
For anyone who agrees
I dedicated my release
Freedom is all I’ll ever be
A life of how I am free
All I’ll ever have
Want and need nothing else from me

“My man”

Somebody called you “my man” today… doesn’t seem like much special, but I caught myself in the act. I can’t believe, that after over 3 years of being in an exclusive, passionate, insane, magical and committed relationship, with healthy -and unhealthy- doses of attachment, obsession and infatuation, when someone refers to you, today, as “my man”… I still get the uncontrollable urgent tendency to say: “I don’t have a man”

How is this even possible? When all I clearly, obviously want is to be yours & you mine. But see, that’s the thing… No I don’t know what the thing is, but there’s a thing.

I think I’ve never come to terms, or reconciliation, or agreement even, with myself that this, that you… that this with you is real.
Somehow it always stayed lingering, simmering, marinade-ing on ‘fairy tale’ level. Maybe this clarifies a little of my mechanisms surrounding you and your behavior and disappointments related to you.

I can just so easily write you out the story. At least I think I can, but evidently I really can’t. If it’s surreal, like a dream, then I am lucid enough to control what happens. Except with you, I’m never in control. Not over you, which I shouldn’t even have to want (if you would only behave), not over any situation with or regarding you either, because you’re equally if not slightly more stubborn and prideful than me.
A constant power struggle, and the mindful positivists tell the people of worries (like I am) that if controlling the situation is impossible… it’s OKAY, because at the very least you can control yourself and how you deal or react. NOPE!! not me, not this one, I can’t. Not with you, ohh irony, “my man”.
Maybe that’s exactly what really does make you “my man” and this struggle won’t end until I realize and more importantly, embrace you as you are,
MY MAN.

but what if you
put me to shame?
what if you make
me look like a
fool? what if you
betray & play &
I’ll never know
control
anxiety
who ever has any reason to trust anyone?

Save up




I still blame you for putting us through this, I still blame you for letting me stand alone, while promising me that as long as I believe we will, we can. I still blame you for walking away and extending this torture, instead of expanding our future, for pretending there’s no other way. I blame you for making me feel like there’s truly no way out, to the point that I become as hopeless as I am love deprived in this loneliness of heartache far from your calm safety of resurrection and revival.

I honestly don’t care anymore, what is realistic or not, if this love is real it should be able to provide us with the power to overcome and persevere. Not only in separation, but in ways to end it also. Not only to get through this together, but to remain in togetherness also.
It might now even be all on you, I know it’s not, but in the powerlessness of this struggle, the urge to blame someone other than myself is maybe the only thing that can still keep me hopeful. As contradictory as that sounds, as it is.

Sometimes not having a choice is also a choice. I principally don’t believe in the concept of regret, because it’s useless by default. Regret is not the same as learning from mistakes and moving on for the better, regret is dwelling in past mistakes and not providing the means to change course. I do, however in all my contradictory ways, regret many of the choices we said we had no choice but to make. I still blame you, but now I blame myself too.

Confessions of a Rapist.

I raped a girl today. It wasn’t my intention. But it happened. I don’t know if it was because I felt like she was showing signs of wanting me. Or because I just wanted to, in spite of anything she wanted.
At the moment, I didn’t think. I didn’t think about any of that. Because I guess I didn’t care. I didn’t care about any of that. I saw what I wanted and I took it. And I took it good. Maybe she even enjoyed it. Maybe she just pretended to not want it. Girls do that sometimes. They say no, because they’re not sure, because they feel it’s wrong, because they want to play games. Not because they really don’t want it.

So I took her to a place nobody would come by. I knew that, because I’ve been there before. To just be alone and smoke weed or drink and think about things. I took her there and I sat her down. We talked, I thought I could talk her into being into me. She did show signs of liking me, but I still wasn’t sure. So I just started touching her. She did say ‘no’, but it wasn’t very convincing. She seemed insecure. So I went on. I took her hand and put it on my body. I told her to suck my dick. She said she had never done that before. What? She was 19 years old, 1 year older than me. How could she have never done that before.
I told her to try, she said she didn’t want to. But I was already hard, I don’t know why. Maybe because of the look in her eyes, asking for me to save her, or her trembling lips, that I wanted to touch so badly. I took her hand and put it on my dick. I told her to touch it. I lifted up my sweatpants and put her hand in my boxers. Her eyes became large. That meant she liked it, right?
She tried to pull her hand back, but I didn’t let her. I got up and pulled her up with me. I turned her around and kissed her neck. That way she would feel comfortable. Comfortable and happy about what was going to happen. She kept saying ‘no’, but I felt like she didn’t mean it. I pulled down her pants and her underwear. Now she was begging ‘please don’t do this’.
Those were just words though, she didn’t do anything to stop me. I pulled out my dick and put it at the entrance. I pushed in and it felt so tight and warm, wet even.

If she’s wet, how can she say she doesn’t want it? How can she not want this? It feels so good. I hold her tightly around her waist. She screams ‘no, please stop’ a couple of times. She puts her nails in the skin of my arm. I tighten my grip and hold her firmly. She’s not going anywhere. She is mine, for now. I thrust in and out. I fuck her hard and deep. Now she can’t deny me anything. No one can deny me this. I’ve earned this, I deserve this. She belongs to me. Her body is my pleasure. She keeps begging me to stop. It’s starting to get annoying. I tell her to wait, I’m almost done. I feel like I’m going to cum, but she needs to shut up. She’s so tight and warm, her body feels so smooth and soft in my arms. How can she not feel what I’m feeling? This feeling is awesome, fucking awesome!
She has her hands covering her mouth now. See, she does enjoy it, she has to control herself not to scream in delight. I thrust a couple more times and I cum. I empty out all my built up frustration and sensation in her precious little hole. I stay in there for a minute. Trying to regain the feeling, trying to block out her crying. She’s ruining it for me!

I pull out and walk away to clean my dick. I come back and she’s still standing in the position I left her. I must’ve fucked her in shock, that’s how good it was. She can’t even move, that’s how good it was. It must have been that good to her. She has her hand covering her mouth and she’s crying. Fuck, why is she still crying? Wasn’t it as good to her as it was to me? I try to pull up her pants, just so nobody will catch us here. She doesn’t cooperate, but she also doesn’t struggle against me. She’s still crying.

What did I do? What’s her fucking problem!? Wasn’t it great for both of us? I take her to sit down again. I wipe her tears and try to comfort her. She doesn’t say anything, and is just crying, still.
I try to talk to her, while stroking her head, but she seems so distant. The things I say, do not seem to reach her. I don’t know what to do anymore, I’m giving up. I’ll just take her back to the station. I’ll just get rid of her, as soon as possible. What a disappointment this is.

Fuck! I guess I just raped her…

Heavy on the heart…this happened 8 years ago today.. (written in my perception of his perspective)

Nobody.

The only reason why I need people in my life, is to be reminded that they are never to be trusted or relied on.

A simple reminder for everyone:

Just know, in the back of your head, but try to keep it close to the surface of your heart, that when it comes down to the real essence, there is exactly nobody there for you. Regardless the cause or nature of your troubles. Regardless if it’s trouble or perhaps even happiness you have to share. There is nobody who really cares, nobody you can count on. You have nobody.

So feel free to get connected, involved or attached with anyone. Just remember this one truth until your last breath. Nobody.

You will only, always only, have yourself. In your best and in your worst moments, in the center of that moment, it’s always just you. You are born alone, you live alone, and you will die alone. Others come and go and might stay for a while and you may enjoy their company. But don’t fool yourself with thinking that they are there for you. They are, just like you, only there for themselves. It’s their right and their prerogative also, as it is your duty to come to this awareness. You need nobody.

It’s the loneliest realization to ever make, but it’s necessary to prevent any further disappointment and protect yourself from rejection and every form of hurt. Accept misery from…exactly, nobody.

It’s easy once you get it. You will always have nobody. No matter how deeply they love you, no matter how many unconditional promises were planted in your fertile soil of optimists belief. No matter how close and compassionate they may seem, they are never going to be there for you when you actually need them. That is a promise I can make in the name of the universe.