Ignore that title.
Sometimes people get this mixed up, so I decided to give a little explanation.
Apathy does not always accompany depression.
Contrary to what people have been believing these last five days, I am not depressed. I do not feel sad. I don’t feel like my life is horrible. That is not why I was pushed towards suicide.
There is a difference between being fed up and being depressed. I was fed up and hollow. Not depressed.
Contrary to what the LCSW said, I do not have low self-esteem. I’m actually a pretty arrogant prick, and in some respects to certain talents, I have a reason for it.
And no I’m not arrogant to make up for my low self esteem. Because I don’t have low self esteem. I’m confident in what I can accomplish. I’m aware of the things I suck at. And I’m okay with both.
This indifference has been following me around for a couple weeks now and it’s what has been putting a damper on all of my school work, I know this now. I was not crying in front of the damn social worker and sheriff because I was sad, but because I was incredibly, incredibly angry. I was angry I don’t have an explanation or answer for all of this. I’m usually pretty good at having answers. I stopped crying pretty quickly, within about two minutes of starting. I arrived in the intake place monotone. I think that’s why the LCSW started throwing out all her feelers trying to break me for 45 minutes. Didn’t work.
This really puts a damper on shit. I’m used to this shit lasting a few days because I decide to say “fuck it all, I’m too stressed!”. I’m not used to it not being spearheaded by me consciously.
I just don’t care. I can’t be bothered to take a shower or eat or get out of bed and make it to class. If I do make it to class, I couldn’t be bothered to give two shits. My anxiety can’t even break through these walls: I’ve been wandering outside and into stores in leggings, socks, and a sweater with the uncombed rats nest that is my hair, and I just don’t care that my neighbors cut quick glances in my direction.
I don’t care that Walgreens calls a code into the speaker after I make eye contact with the clerk and then suddenly I’m looking for soap and another employee peers around the corner at me and smiles and leaves. Yeah Walgreens, I’m really going to steal soap.
I don’t care if people think I’m rude for not making eye contact with them. I don’t care if I don’t laugh at your shit joke. Maybe if it weren’t so shitty, I would laugh. Ever think of that?
I’m usually a hypersensitive person, and that’s no different when I’m depressed. When I’m depressed, I’m crying a lot but I’m feigning a smile. When I’m depressed, I’m listening to sad music and thinking about how shit everything is. When I’m depressed, I feel like a failure. When I’m depressed, I tell myself I’m worthless. When I’m depressed, I want someone to hug me and tell me everything is alright. When I’m depressed, sometimes keeping busy actually helps keep myself out of my head and makes me feel better.I have a lot of experience with depression.
Granted, I still can’t get out of bed, I still sleep a lot, and get to class or keep up on work, but it’s because of the overwhelming feeling. That’s the key point in all of this.
I’m not crying; I’m not sad. I’m not happy, but I’m not sad. I’m nothing. I’m not feigning a smile, I could care less to appease anyone at this point. I’m listening to Michael Jackson and dancing a bit in my seat. I don’t feel like a failure. I don’t want anyone to hug me for fucks sake; in fact, I’d prefer it if people stayed away from me. Keeping busy hasn’t changed anything. I actually went to work. I went to work hoping a couple of specific people were there but turns out I decided to go insane the week none of them were.
It was worse the days leading up to the hospital, and the days after. It wasn’t until today that I feel a little break in the fog: I laughed at Kim Jong Un banning sarcasm is North Korea. That’s huge. A laugh is huge.
I guess I laughed at the hospital once, at the guy who crawled like a spider across the floor. But that was more sad and disturbing than funny. And I laughed a little uncontrollably for about five minutes. The girl next to me kept staring at me. I should have said bitch turn around, you in the same place I am, don’t act like you ain’t never seen someone laugh for no reason for five minutes straight.
As I walked through the mist tonight in my same sweater, same leggings, same socks, I have been for the last five days, I was taking a look around. I think briefly I’ve talked about my disassociative experiences. They’ve been flaring up again. And as I walked I was trying to figure out why the world looked so different to me now. I was looking for some fascinating, descriptive words to make me sound like an exquisite asshole–I mean exquisite writer–but all I could come up with is “video games”.
Life feels like a video game now. Everything around me doesn’t seem like real life, it seems controlled. Things look different, people seem different. Like they’re all players, or puppets maybe.
You know the way GTA 5 has real looking facial features and nature features, but you can obviously tell it’s not reality? That’s what the world looks like to me: really good graphics that aren’t good enough to fool me.
Trevor was by far one of my favorite video game characters by the way. The black people in these games are always way too stereotypical though.
For those followers who have been with me for a couple months, do you remember when I said as a joke that this blog has steadily become a diary of my descent into madness? I think the madness is here.