An Examination of Depression

I can’t get out of bed, but I don’t want to be alone, but I have forgotten how to talk to people. I am weighed down by bad thoughts like pounds of heat inside my feet that prevent any sort of movement. I am sick again, with depression again, and while it masquerades as the common cold or as fatigue or as general dullness, it always manifests the same way: here I am. Stultified. Again. Everything that happens, the sound of the door. The ding of my phone. The silence of my phone. Incoming DMs. Outgoing bad energy. Everything is an excuse for me to feel badly about something for some reason. Every comment. Every coming and going of the people in my house. The trash on the floor. The neighbors screaming outside. News of yet another political disaster. Fluctuations in the stock market. A friend’s tooth ache. These are all the cause for the reinforcement of the badness of everything in my life, even as I sit here, steeped in the privilege of being me in my first world American bedroom, a woman on her own, which is so much more than anyone ever in the world could ever say before me, but there is still something wrong with it. I know that there will always be something wrong with it. I accept this. I accept the human condition, and I accept the pain, and I accept the pleasure, and I lie here, hoping that the cloud of depression dissipates back into sunshine. But winter is coming, and I can’t get out of bed. I would like to not feel alone anymore, but this emotional catatonia is preventing me from finding any solution to that problem. This is the emesis of my electric sadness, dancing jigs across my psychosis. It is putting a pause on the ceaseless fucking and drinking that I use to characterize myself, which is strange, because without all of that, am I just here? In bed? Alone? Or could I be better than this if I tried.

I wonder what the answer to that is, but I’ll never know, because I’ll never try. I might die here. Not today, but eventually. The timing will be right one day, and then I’ll be gone. But not today. Perhaps tomorrow.