Saturday, May 31, 2014


All the World

I went to the doctor today. I told him I'd been feeling depressed for a while now. I barely got the words out of my mouth before I started sobbing. I want to cry forever. I want to feel nothing. I don't know how I ever imagined depression as anything other than vile acid reflux. It's not beautiful. It's not interesting or endearing. I'm not the Virgin Suicides. I am not small and dainty and sad in the most romantic way. I am so miserable that I don't want to get up in the morning and my voice wilts into nothingness when I have to talk to people. This is not beautiful. This is agonising. I want a lobotomy.

I feel as though I truly will be miserable forever. It seems like such a waste of a life. I used to think that I was okay the way I was, that introversion and aversion to dancing were just personality quirks but I'm starting to think that Evana might be right: I would enjoy people and dancing and other happy things if I was happy in myself. I thought I was happy. I thought being alone was making me happy. And I suppose it was, in a way. At least when I'm alone my feelings are somewhat objective – they are the reality, they are the only truth. But when I'm around other people, I realise that this is not normal, I'm not normal. I can't relate to other people when I feel like this. I'm not interested in the things they have to say. I'm bored and I'm silently berating myself for being so fucking different. Why can't I be like them? Why aren't I interested in these things? Why do I look so different? Why am I so fat? Why am I so ugly? Why am I so stupid? Why am I so awful?

I know that my family, friends, doctor and counsellor would disagree with me on those points/questions, but the problem isn't that I am the worst person in the world, the problem is that I feel like I'm the worst person in the world. Everything feels so awful right now and I feel so phenomenally fucking empty. And there is literally no solution. I feel like with an illness this bad, there should be some available surgery to cure it. Maybe a lobotomy would work for the simple reason that it would rule out quite a lot of other brain activity to boot. What I wouldn't give to be oblivious.

Right now I would like to cease existing. I hate myself for every word I've ever said, every tear I've ever cried in front of my family, friends and boyfriends, every piece of junk food I've ever eaten. I want to undo everything about myself, my complete history. If I have to be miserable I would like to do it in the confines of a black hole where no one, not family or friend, can see me or hear me.