Black dogs are on my tail. Fear becomes gravity, as if the
world is heavier, exponentially increased in mass. Depression is the proper
term, but it is so contaminated and unsuitable. It does not convey the feeling,
the pain, the way everything becomes black and lifeless, slow and shaded in
misery. Exertion of any kind is pointless and excruciatingly difficult. Every
food normally savoured turns to ash in my mouth. Sounds and colours lose their taste.
Thoughts of death are involuntary, they come and project
themselves on the surrounding world. I do not want to kill myself, I just
wouldn’t mind dying. My fear is lopsided; I fear almost everything but death.
Un-life, the lack of complex chemistry, not the opposite of life, just the absence
of it. It does not seem peaceful or desirable, awful or futile. But the human
reaction, the fear of death so wonderfully drilled into us by Natural
Selection, is gone. I can’t find it.
It is a sickness, not something that happens to the deserved
or the inferior, the weak or the sensitive ones. It is chemistry. I am
Chemistry. A factory error. IT IS NOT MY FAULT. But this rationality lacks influence.
It FEELS my fault, I feel I AM a cunt. I know, at least I think, it is untrue,
though I can’t shake the feeling that this is somehow a punishment. I take huge
solace in the fact that I have no wish to pray, to ask a ‘higher-power’ to fix
everything in exchange for my soul. Though it is irony that many do belittle
themselves by asking for forgiveness. For to do so requires the admission that
it is their fault are they are as pathetic as they feel.
I am Bi-Polar. And too many of us Manic-Depressives commit
self-slaughter. I should never think I speak for all who suffer from Bi-Polar
or indeed Uni-Polar Depression, but I will commit myself to honesty because of
the taboo and the chest-crushing shame that surrounds a disease so common, and
so lethal to not just those who suffer, but everyone around them. The taboo is
silent persecution, it is a guilt-trip on those who aren’t as happy as the world
wants to seem. It shouldn’t be so that the miserable should feel guilty for
being miserable, and the happy are praised for being happy. It is entropy, not
God or human will that guides (or un-guides) this universe, there is minute
control, if any, over how we feel and the circumstances we live in.
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