Putting The Depressed Mask Aside

[rukio 8924]

Walking to lunch today made me think and puzzle over life. I kept thinking over one thing in particular though, the way everyone would tell me to stick up for myself. I never did, not even when I was pushed down the stairs. No one ever understood, but how could they when I barely understood it myself? Today I finally began to grasp what had eluded me for so long.

 

I never stood up for myself because I wanted to do the same exact things to myself that was being inflicted upon me. It was simply easier that it was caused by other people. I enjoyed the pain because it was another excuse to hate everyone and pity myself. I tended to hate almost everyone, even those who did nothing to me.

 

As much as I wanted to die, as often as I tried, really I just wanted to escape. Part of me must love life, after all, I wake up every day, even after a night of suicidal depression and attempts that never quite worked. Even if only to write the next story of mine, I had reason to exist and thus still do.

 

Everyone who says they'll stay ends up leaving. Its not their fault, I've been a pretty loathsome human who was caught up in self pity. Looking back, I don't even understand why I overreacted to so many small and insignificant things.

 

I write tragedies because all I ever focused on was the sad in life. Even in the happiest of times, I could find that one reason to be sad and just cling to that. This story was originally planned to be about a girl who felt like her heart was shattered and she couldn't live. By the end of the story she would have been holding her mp3 and stepping off of a chair to hang herself. In essence, it was the same theme of every other story I put a lot of emotion into. A girl killing herself or wanting to die because she is no longer loved. 

 

Yet this time something felt different. I had no desire to kill my fictional self once more. No, I take it back, I did want to kill her off. This time however, I wanted to truly end myself as well, as horrible as that may sound. Yet when I began to write and listen to Therapy by All Time Low it all just sort of melted away. This blurry empty shell I've forbidden myself from leaving started to just vanish. I felt at peace for once in a long time, and so I began to write what I have written so far.

 

Thus, what I planned to be my last story and last day are indeed not my last day nor my last writing. No doubt I will still write the most depressive of things when I feel the mood come over me, that is simply my nature. Yet at the same time, my reasons for what I write are shifting. In what way I am not fully certain yet. Its odd, to write this and to just....be aware of what everyone closest to me has been talking about for nearly a year. Strange and yet good.

 

*A white mask lays on a chair, the story resting underneath it. A pen is off to the side of the chair, abandoned.* 

 

[ACanadianCraft (Nate) 682]

"Why is the rum always gone?"

-Cpt. Jack Sparrow

[Lark 2227]

Interesting.

[Shadeleaf 1021]

Excellently written and very emotional. Once more you deliver a story that those who can relate to absolutely adore~

Keep writing, and long live House Sillygoose.

[V0idsoldier 1139]

"Why is the rum always gone?"

-Cpt. Jack Sparrow

10/10

[Knox213 10]

Moved to the Archive. It shall be sorted into the appropriate category shortly.