The Depression Quadrilogy

I wrote the stuff below at work in the midst of a raging depression. Emailed it to myself to be placed here. It's a bit like taking all of my clothes off and standing in front of a crowd, but here's what goes on in my head when I'm depressed, in four parts. Hopefully, people can relate to it.

Part One: Maudlin
God, I really just hate this. I hate how I feel. I hate having no energy to do anything but sit and stare at the tv in my dirty apartment with dirty dishes and dirty laundry and still being tired enough to go to bed even though I have expended NO energy doing the things I should. I hate feeling like I have nothing to look forward to. I hate feeling useless, like if I was gone it would barely cause a ripple anywhere. Someone else would rent my apartment, someone else would be sitting in my cube, my cats and DVDs would be divided among my relatives and someone else would take over my queue here at work. I feel like I don't matter, in the scheme of things. I have no family, I have no legacy, I have nothing. I have even thought lately that I should try to adopt a kid. That's a big laugh, right? They'd never give me one. I just-- I'm so tired of being completely selfish and self-obsessed and feeling like nothing I do really matters. At least if I was raising a kid I could have something to motivate me, something to force me out of bed every day someone ELSE to obsess over besides myself.

I know that if I dropped dead in my apartment it would be days and maybe weeks before anyone noticed and that is the most horrifying, empty feeling. I have even though lately that I should check in with my friend The Nurse once every other day or so just so she knows I am still alive. If she doesn't hear from me one of those times, she should immediately assume I am dead and call the coroner to remove my body.

Sorry. It's just a cancer and I need to get all of this out. I know, I know, what makes me so fuckin special, right? God, depression is so god-awful maudlin and tired. It's just so-- NINETIES!! What I should really do is channel all of this angst into something useful creatively but fuck if I know what it is.

Part Two: Confession
One more thing. I think I'm afraid of my neighborhood. Or at the very least I use that as an excuse as to why I rarely leave my apartment. I'm afraid I'm going to get robbed, shot in the crossfire or beaten up simply because I am white or because I am gay. I suddenly feel like I have been stripped bare naked by admitting that, but it is the god's honest truth. I am afraid of all kinds of horrible things happening to me if I am not going to work or if am walking around alone. The only place I truy feel safe these days is when I am home with the door locked and my curtains drawn. I even feel like a stray bullet may hit me when I am sitting on my couch in my living room but only if I have the blinds up.

Part Three: Dementors
The Dementors from Harry Potter are the perfect symbol for depression. They float around harassing you and suck your life force; they make you terrified, they make you feel like you will never be happy again and the best way to battle how they make you feel is chocolate. The way to defeat them is with confidence and most importantly, anger like gasoline with happiness as the match. I'm going to get through this, one way or another. My depression is making me afraid of things around me. It's making me afraid of the things that will make me feel better. It wants to exist. It's like being possessed by a demon, one that uses your fears and self-esteem issues to take root and hold on.

Part Four: Chocolate
Took a cue from Harry Potter. I had some chocolate. I feel better now.