A Day In The Life. No, not The Beatles' song.

I have had some words sitting in my drafts folder for far too long. I have not published them for fear that someone might point an angry finger at me and have me exiled from society for having bad thoughts. After much consideration, I have decided that my thoughts deserve to be shared. This decision was partly influenced by the fact that I am in a pretty good place with life right now. I haven't had these bad thoughts for a couple of weeks now. They'll be back, I'm sure of it, but in the meantime I wanted to give people a glimpse of what unedited and unbridled depression looks like.


"They don't know what's it like to be depressed, not this kind of depressed at least. Only those who are truly weighed down by this invisible plague know how difficult it is to simply exist, especially when existence is the very thing you're running from. Let's talk first about what it feels like, physically that is. When I wake up in the morning- and by morning I really mean afternoon- I am already carrying the weight of the world on my shoulders. It looks a bit like Atlas, but less majestic. I don't shower because I don't plan on going anywhere. I don't plan on going anywhere because I don't want to see anyone. I don't want to see anyone because it takes too much energy to pretend to be okay. I wish I had the kind of depression that causes a loss of appetite... But I don't. I binge eat every day. After a binge session, I feel complete and utter self loathing. When I'm not binge eating or making angry remarks towards my loving family members, I am usually stuck in my head. What goes on inside my head? Death.

I picture death in all its most sought after forms. The most attractive form is death by accident. In this scenario, my family doesn't have to live with the shame of a late daughter, sister, etc. that society views as crazy. A classic scenario is the one where I get to die a hero. Of course this one is the most outrageous because I've never done anything heroic, and I probably never will. It's simply not in my nature. Then there's the middle ground, the ambiguous death. A true mystery. Did she commit suicide? Was she murdered? Maybe it was manslaughter. Or maybe it was an underlying health condition that caused her to go naturally. The possibilities are endless and that in it of itself is strangely electrifying to me. That's why the latter form of death is my favorite."