The D Diaries
Are you depressed today?
In the morning I wasn’t, not in the afternoon or the evening. But now I am. It ebbs and flows all in private. I would talk about it, but it all has the vibe of a modern day witch doctor.; “A psychiatrist? Are you weak minded?. Are you just seeking attention?” Seeking attention? Attention?More like avoiding it is my first priority. When at a party, I hope to God that there will be mahogany furniture or boring wallpaper for me to camouflage into. The problem with my state of mind is that I am not depressed mostly, but certain times, deeply. Quiet mood swings, bouts of breathy crying sessions are all part of my semi annual routine. Mostly during fall and winter, so I blame the weather for my state, some may call it denial. But since I am above average cheery all the time, even when I approach the topic of depression or suicide, people always expect a joke or punchline at the end of it. For example -
I don’t feel very happy today. (Change tone) I can’t believe that Psy is not number 1 anymore!
My greatest fear about suicide is not dying at the end. Being disabled as a direct result of my own actions would only spur my desire to die, but I might not be in control of it. In a sense - I’d rather be steak than a vegetable. But in case I needed to off myself, I would just swallow a handful of pills and hope for the best. My greatest fear, is being saved somehow and then having to face the question -”Did she do that for attention?” If there was a way to die of humiliation, I’d much rather not explore it and live and be sad about it.
So why am I sad tonight? I took a shower, had a great guitar session with my baby brother, cooked dinner, and then I became sad. But I know why I sad. I saw a great band yesterday. I waited years to see them. And today after my epic jam session I dreamt of being a rock goddess some day. But by nightfall I realised that my dream was nothing but a dream. I am never going to entertain the masses or have my singing heard by others. I am shy and reserved and self critical. The bursts of endorphins during the evening sessions had parted my system by night time and I as I look at the clock again, nothing has changed. I haven't gone out and followed my dreams, dreams which I dreamt last year only to fall through the same cycles of self deprecation and analysis which have crippled all my creative endeavours. Living vicariously through others and dreaming of greatness from within the shadows and when confronted with darkness, I am consumed within it.
So why I am I depressed? I have everything I need and more. Perhaps then I am not melancholy, just ungrateful.
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