I haven’t written anything since October when I wrote about my depression and my life went upside down. I scrapped what I originally wrote for a new start. I will use capitalization too which is a bit unusual for me.
I wish I could talk to you all as friends and I’m tempted, but the truth is you’re a mixed crowd so I’ll spare the details…for now.
After writing about my depression in October, I was let go from my place of work. I think being forced to leave, (or should I say being torn apart from) the thing that kinda made me happy to wake up every morning was insanely devastating. That to me was the final blow in my ordeal and for a while I sorta went ghost after that. Even now, my interactions with people, both in real life and online, have been minimal at best. I still tweet and post on Facebook but it’s considerably much less than it used to be. I do less of things I used to do a year ago. It’s weird.
I took some time off and learned how to act. Learned how to do things properly. I became happier and started to deal with things more, not run from the feelings, not have the anxiety. It’s been nearly 7 months since I wrote that post. I’m not good but I’m not bad either. Just out here being present, existing and shit. Sadness and anger are the realest emotions and the two we try to fix the most. Sadness isn’t the worst. Some of us are fine existing in that place. The contrast makes happiness feel like a stronger emotion, almost drug-like.
Solitude can be a powerful thing at times. I came to understand that some of the people I considered friends were essentially mocking me. It all got to me after a while and made things even worse. Doing something no longer was “Let me see if I can do this” but instead it was “X and Y will probably think this is cool” or “Maybe if I do this project, they’ll like me” or something along those lines.
I remember someone calling me a “self-loathing attention whore with Aspergers.” That was funny to me because if that person truly knew me, they would know that I hate drawing attention to myself. I really do. I prefer to be quiet and observe things. It allows me to think better. If I’m loud and obnoxious, it only means my anxiety has kicked in and I’m mentally losing it in my mind. As for the self loathing part, I guess that’s understandable since I was going through what essentially seemed like the end for me. I couldn’t let what some people thought about me put me in place that was worse than where I already was. Where I am on the spectrum shouldn’t really matter either but hey, you can’t really rationalize with assholes. I realized at a young age that I live with my thoughts more than I live with other people’s opinions. To tell the truth, I only care about…what the people I care about…think of me and even that has it’s limits.
I’m starting to think we’re a lot alike. Human beings spinning on blackness. All wanting to be seen, touched, heard, paid attention to. Maybe there are forces in this universe we don’t understand but I still believe we make our own miracles.
Summer isn’t appreciated without winter.