High End of Low

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Young Adult  |  House: Booksie Classic


A short description of an average life being mildly depressed.



This is not a true story about myself.

Submitted: April 29, 2018

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Submitted: April 29, 2018

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Over the past few years, I've taken more notice and actively searched for the inspiration that people thrive on to get through the constant struggle of life in general. It may be bitterness that has overcome me, but being 100% envious of people who seem to have it 'all together' and know exactly what path their taking has really got under my skin. Social media plays a big part in this as I used to be able to see through the cherry picked pictures where people look flawless and postings of long, drawn out paragraphs about how people are contempt with their life. The reason I say social media plays a major role in the way I'm feeling is because subliminally, we all compare our lives to our friends and people we know of that are doing better than ourselves. Never the other way around, I would never arrogantly compare my life in an smug way to someone who is worse off than me. If say, your best friend at work leaves for a higher paid job whilst you're still stuck in a mundane routine, you're happy for them, but that happiness is masked with a hint of jealousy that they're doing better than yourself. - like they're higher up on the ladder than where you are. It's a constant, subliminal competition and I'm hoping that it's not just me that has this small, seemingly selfish battle going on inside my head. The more time ticks on and the older I get, I seem to be more critical when I asses my achievements and where I am on the 'structure' that is briefly spoken about by older generations. This revolves around when I mentioned about comparing myself to others. I understand that whatever situation I find myself in, there will always be someone better, or worse off than myself but compared to the people I know at my age who have everything laid out for them, I feel low as hell. I'm very careful about how I word things to my friends when they ask if I'm okay - I don't like people's false sympathy towards me or the people who are only interested in what's wrong with me so they can recycle what I tell them to tell others. I just don't like people knowing about me truly. The best way to describe it would be that if I tell someone what's the matter with me (even if they are genuinely trying to help) I feel like my guard is down and they have something 'over me'. The strange thing about it all is that I try to help others who are feeling low, whenever or however I can - but refuse to even give the option to someone else to help me.

Half of the time it's a mood that can just be described as a day where I'm feeling down, but when those days happen five times out of seven, I think something ought to be done about it. With no real motivation, I struggle to muster up any bit of active life inside me to alter my current situation. Work is a depressing, never ending cycle, the last two girlfriends I had cheated on me. My social life is existent but barely. It's a small escape from the bad aspects of life, being surrounded by friends and a good time - but everything has a beginning and an end. Focusing too much on the end part of everything, I can never truly live for the moment - as I patiently wait for the inevitable ending to come of all things good in life. Having never spoken out loud about this, I struggle to put it to words to describe the feeling I have most of the time. It's almost like the feeling you have on a Sunday night before work the next day, where you realise that your weekend is at an end, the best bits are behind you and it's back to the grind tomorrow morning. That's the best description I can say - like I feel the best bits of my life are behind me and it's the same monotonous mood and activities I will have from now on. The critical, self assessment I mentioned is usually me comparing myself to other people who have had it worse than myself - in order to make myself feel better. In the next breath, upon doing this, it makes me sound and feel pathetic, like I'm attention seeking and craving sympathy - because a lot of people are genuinely depressed and my problems seem to be petty in comparison. People like Robin Williams, Chester Beddington who were genuinely depressed makes me feel lucky to still have the opportunity of life, to make something of myself in order to pursue whatever the fuck happiness is supposed to be. I'd hate to call it depression, but the 'low' feeling of the have is easily cast to one side when I cover it with humor to bypass any potential conversation or situation that addresses my true mood.

The truth is I barely eat and rarely sleep on a night. The times I do sleep, I never want to wake up - sleep is a much better place to be as apposed to dragging my heavy body here, there and everywhere to sustain this 'blessing' that is life.


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