A Stream of Thought: Depression

I have no right to feel this way. I have no right to be depressed. My life is good, and I know so many people whose lives are nothing but devastation, chaos, and tragedy. Children starve to death every day, all over the world. I eat plenty, not because I am hungry, but because it feels good. I eat because it comforts me. Why, then, should I be depressed? With the amount of comfort food I eat, I should be the happiest man in the world. Instead, I find myself constantly contemplating suicide. I find myself second-guessing everything I’ve ever done, and anything I could potentially do.

I have no right to feel this way. I know how to make everything better. I know if I took action, all my reasons for feeling depressed would be gone. Instead, I remain inactive. I avoid the things which bring me the most joy. I sit and stare at the homework I need to complete to pass my classes, to graduate. They are simple assignments. So simple they are boring. I should complete them easily. Instead, I sit and stare. My thoughts drift back to my depression. Why? There is no reason for me to feel this way. If I but spoke to people, spent more time amongst humanity, all would be well.

I have no right to feel this way. I cannot allow myself to feel this way, and thus I make myself feel worse. Knowing, as I do, how much other people suffer does not help. No, I am still depressed, and in addition I feel depressed for these people, and guilty that I feel depressed at all with such a good life. My problems are no one’s fault but my own, and yet I feel as though I have no control over my life. I feel as though my own thoughts are not mine to control. They function without my instruction, and they are always, always at odds with each other. I cannot make sense of my own mind. The only thing I can agree with myself on is that the current state of affairs is a scornful one. I do not live. I exist. I am not dead. I exist. Life or death, I must not simply exist. Existence is simple: eat, sleep, stay healthy. So I eat, and I sleep, and I try to stay healthy.

I have no right to feel this way. I could live. I could die. I’m too fucking scared of making a choice, one way or the other, to do a single God damned thing! Worse, as time goes by, part of me keeps wanting to retreat further and further into the familiarity of dreary existence. I have developed a need to avoid physical contact. I wear black, head to toe, covering as much flesh as possible to avoid even the slight accidental brushes that occur daily. I force all this upon myself, all the depression. I could easily release it all.

I have no right to feel this way. I have no right to think about killing myself. I have no right to daydream constantly about receiving pity or making people feel sorrow. If I have no right to it, I can never achieve it. I have a good life, a wonderful family, and lots of friends. And by constantly thinking of these things, I make myself feel worse. I know I should be happy. I should be able to control my own thoughts. I should feel some sort of emotional connection to other people. But there are only two whose presence can cheer me up. One is my little sister. The other is my obsession, another situation I have no right to.

I have no right to feel this way. I barely know her. I have no right to be as infatuated as I am. Nevertheless, I am. And this only serves to multiply my depression, while my depression serves to make me feel worthless, unworthy of even knowing her. I have no right to feel this way. But these things I have no right to feed into each other, and trap me here. I have a good life, and it could be easily improved. All these things could be solved if I could make a damned choice! Just one…simple…fucking…CHOICE! So what do I do? I sit and I think. Then I think some more. Then I type some damn stupid short story or essay about what I’m thinking because if I don’t then I’ll explode. But it doesn’t do any good, the emotions released into these creations will return tenfold within an hour. And then I’ll have nothing to do but lay in bed and cry to myself, with tears that have no right to come.

I have no right to feel this way.

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