A Short Imagined Monologue; Guys, it’s me, Depression. Why are you all ignoring me?
So I have been thinking about it (obviously), and I am starting to think I get a pretty bad rep for no real reason.
First up people talk whack about me all the time and they just don’t really understand me.
You know what I mean. They name check me all the time, but most of the time they are talking about some other emotion, like sadness, anxiety or grief. And you know what, I am kind of pissed about it. Because the people that do get me don’t like to talk about me, they gloss over me or hide me away like a dirty little secret, pretending I am not there.
It can be a pretty lonely life. A guy could start to feel a bit upset about this state of affairs, I mean we all just want a bit of recognition right??
Take happiness, sitting there in his ivory fucking tower being chased by everyone like he is so special. He is not special, he is just a good salesman. Urgh, I hate happiness. You know why? Happiness is the kind of guy who rocks up to the party and asks you “what’s keeping you busy at the moment” (just ask me what I do for a living you ostentatious dickweed), all the while drinking some pretentious ‘tipple’ like sparkling water with lime because he is so fucking great he doesn’t need to drown his sorrows like the rest of us. Fuck you happiness!
Sadness isn’t much better; she’s always taking credit for my shit. What’s worse is whilst muscling in on my job she is also brown nosing happiness like they are two sides of the same coin (I hate networkers!). You know what sadness, happiness needs you just as much and you need him, and he is treating you like shit, don’t fall for his slimy ways. I mean what has he done? Basked in some sunshine, fallen asleep under the stars, taken the credit for some cheap joke. All overrated if you ask me.
Whereas I have sidled my way into loads of peoples minds! I have made people sit in the darkness and cry for hours (yeah hours motherfucker), taken people from fine to the brink of despair in minutes, kept people trapped in their houses because they are scared of what happens when they leave. Pretty impressive right? Take that happiness! My shit is persistent. I don’t hang around for a few mins and then fuck off — I mean I am committed. Where is my ‘exceeds expectations’ annual review!
Isn’t that enough?
It’s almost like no-one is appreciating the effort — do you think I do this for fun?
No, I am just like everyone else I want some fucking recognition, a good job title and preferably a pay rise. I don’t get it — every year I am increasing my numbers across the world and no one is paying me any attention?! Is that too much to expect? Some positive feedback, maybe just the odd pat on the back, or at the very least a few people actually talking about me. The real me, not using me for some other stupid emotions work.
Life’s not fair! And that’s the whole point — it’s because of me you know that dickheads!
Truth bomb. You’re welcome.
Maybe I should just call it quits and go and do something more meaningful? I am better than this shit. Yeah, actually do you know what, I think I quit. I am going to go somewhere where people appreciate me, like New York. Everyone loves me there, and they all have shrinks and sit and talk about me for hours. Thems’ is my peeps.
I don’t need you.
Maybe pretentiousness can even put me up for a bit? I hear he has a great pad in the city where he hosts literary salons and drinks red wine. I might like a literary salon. I think I would make a good addition. Everyone loves a bit of angst when they are discussing art. I am quite cultured after all. I have hung out with all the greats — Hemingway, Plath, Bergman, Van Gogh… they will lap that shit up.
Maybe I will take up poetry…
“words fall slowly
like tears of change
into the void of nothingness”
I am good.
I am booking my ticket now.
Fuck you all. I quit.