So not that I want to start this blog thing out on the wrong foot, but I’m just tossing this out there. I am suffering from a severe episode of depression right about now. For those who have been fortunate enough to not slip and fall into this deadly mire, steer clear of this and return on a more productive day.
So until I devise a pseudonym, I’m going to be very vague and say that when life hits, it hits hard. Sometimes it hits really hard. This is universal, so don’t let Instagram fool you into thinking that there are millions of people living the sweet life without a care in the world, all fucking giggles and sunshine. Instagram was designed that way on purpose to make you feel inadequate. When you feel inadequate, you feel empty inside. When you feel empty, you seek to fill that emptiness. You’ll fill it with stuff- clothes, gadgets, trinkets, shoes, food, gambling, alcohol, pills, dope- but at the end of the day, you’re still empty. However, this emptiness was born of inadequacy; an inadequacy that was manufactured by an app that comes standard on almost every Android device. You see where I’m going with this? You can fill in the rest.
As much as I’d like to just let myself sink into the depths of this quicksand known as depression and never emerge, I have people who are dependent on me and need me to perform as a functioning member of society. So alas, I trudge on and face the day, willing myself to persevere. That sounds absolutely stupid when I read that aloud, but it really is that difficult sometimes. Why do some people end up with a noose around their neck, a needle in their arm, or with brains splattered across the bathroom tiles, while some not only find happiness, but thrive in this misery?