Friday, October 4, 2013

MISSION NINE: Manifestation

The thing the average "happy" citizen doesn't understand about depressions is that it's not about sitting around feeling glum. It's not laziness, or lethargy, or inactivity. All of these things are merely the symptoms of the main, mental event, which is the perpetual broadcast in the noggin of the afflicted of the movie I Hate Myself. I don't know if the average person can understand the deep level of violent antipathy a depressive personality inflicts upon himself-- how much I directed toward myself. I mean, I just thought I was a walking piece of sh*t. I was a loser. A waste. Everything about me was wrong. Depressives are dirt. When the weight of this self-loathing starts to become overburdening, the sufferer may displace some of this pent up frustration by placing blame on the external world, but the twisted Milky Hate Galaxy of one's inner cosmos is the true place where the depressive lives, breathes, and breeds self-defeatist asteroids of psychological, emotional, and even physical destruction.

The exhibit of social disinterest, indifference, and apathy are really just expressions of the depressive trying to erase himself. It's like trying to Photoshop yourself out of the grand picture of humanity: "I'm not here. You can't see me." Not admitting one's presence in the world is a safety blanket. If I'm barely alive, I can't f*ck up, make a fool of myself, hurt, etc. You know what they say, "When the going gets tough, the depressive takes a nap, Rip Van Winkle style." Fine. I made that whole thing up, but that doesn't make it any less true.

At my darkest, I loved the idea of not existing anymore. I always thought it was strange and somewhat laughable, for example, how people feared death. A) In a world of followers, what could be simpler than doing that which all before us have done? It is the only concrete and reassuring certainty we have. It's kind o' nice. It's the one thing you can depend on. B) Death makes the indeterminate years between birth and The End much more tolerable. It's inevitability at least lets you know that no matter how bad things get, you won't have to put up with this garbage forever. It takes the pressure off, no? I think people think I'm exaggerating sometimes when I describe my prior outlook on things... Perhaps they think I'm trying to be funny or am merely being irreverent for the sake of irreverence. "She didn't really thing death was 'awesome.' Yeah, I did. I was that messed up.

I can back this up with a pretty profound experience that I had at the beginning of the year. My New Year's present of 2013 was finding a small lump in my breast. Hooray? So, I went to the doctor to check it out, because I mentioned it in passing to my folks and they flipped (irrationally, I thought). The doctor's response was, "It's probably nothing, but..." So, I went to get an Ultrasound, which I found particularly entertaining, as I figured that this would naturally be the only case when I would actually have one. Doctor #2 said, "It's probably nothing, but..." So, I went in for the biopsy. Now I'm thinking, "Christ. I may legitimately have cancer." This too I found hilarious, as I was but 29-years-old at the time, exercised religiously, and was pretty damn healthy. "Sure. I'm the one who gets the big C. Ooooooof course."