TW: Depression! Suicide! Free thinking!
I wonder if anyone else handles depression like I do. It's a fascinating thing and I'm often curious, so let's go ahead and make another factzilla while I'm at it.
Like most of the world, I usually have something to be depressed about. We're talking, high level suicidal depressed. Wearing all black and stepping out into an unlit neighborhood that's heavy in traffic depressed. I get that. It's awesome. So fun. I think of seven different ways of dying a day and often contemplate mixing medications that I no longer take and alcohol in order to make sure that my insides are completely fucked. Then I think, that's stupid. You're stupid. And I don't want an open casket so I'll make sure to do something horribly atrocious to my face so that way no one will have to see me bukkake'd with makeup and looking like a shiny ass mannequin clown or some type of fucked up dead juggalo. I also entertain the thought of purging neighborhoods, gangs, and certain people for one last hurrah so that way if I get shot down, at least it was for a reason.
BUT I digress. My depression is something I've been living with since my chronic insomnia kicked in, and I lost all faith in having any type of normalcy in my life. You get to thinking a lot when you're plagued with no sleep, in the dead silence and pitch black darkness. You learn that you are the monster in the dark, you forgo feelings for a cookie cutter personality so that people won't bother you or wonder why the quiet, african american kid in the corner is so bizarrely smart and has to take different classes, and then you break yourself into different parts so that you don't have to deal with trying to balance normalcy and opt for the easiest way of handling multiple personalities. All of this at the sweet ripe age of seven. Who says girls always mature faster than boys?
To start battling my crippling depression and the burden of splitting my mind into fragments, I stopped getting depressed. I sit it and let it fester, boil over into a ripe ol mess and not think of it for the most part. Depressed thought? Instantly shelved and put away for another day because there is nothing more to drive a person crazy when they have 22 hours of free time to function and only need 2 to sleep.
BUT, you can only ignore stuff for so long before it comes forth, right? Bread gets moldy, milk gets chunky, all that stuff. Same with depression. Instead of trudging around through my days a sad sack of sorrow slime (Alliteration! Woo!), I give it all a stewing point of a month, before I sit down by my lonesome, and take those two hours of sleep I normally take to let it all hit me at once. It is the worst times of my life.
“Put your hand on a hot stove for a minute, and it seems like an hour. Sit with a pretty girl for an hour, and it seems like a minute. That's relativity.”
We all know the quote. It's Einstein (Or for some, LL Cool J in Deep Blue Sea). That's essentially what I do. For two hours, time slows down like the last day of school before summer break and I sit and wade through all the depression that I've accumulated over the month span and let it wrack me the fuck up which leads to bringing up ever bad memory that I've ever experienced and can remember and boo howdy, it's a doozy of how many I can remember. I get depressed about life, relatives, relationships, things people said, things I think, my life, television, the list is quite endless.
BUT now you know a little more about me and some sort of coping mechanisms that I have, and this is the end of your long winded factzilla.
