For those of you who don’t know, I’m clinically depressed. Not in that chic, ultra-Goth, Johnny the Homicidal Maniac wannabe sort of way, in the real way, the ‘Why the hell do I feel so shitty all the fucking time’ sort of way. So of course I have few options for me. Pills, therapy, death… I prefer the latter be ing as the first two are doing jack shit for me. I don’t choose to feel this way. I can’t control it and I can’t figure out how I managed to get it in the first place. I may have be a pessimistic person but not to the levels I’ve been struggling with this past year. Perhaps it’s hereditary, maybe a chemical or hormonal imbalance, or just a phase I’m growing through. Personally I think I’m just fucked up… so, in order to deal with this thing, I try to understand it. Now, my thoughts are scattered anymore… so this may be like herding cats and I’ll probably run off topic here and there. Please bear with me.

Is depression a relatively new disease? I can’t think of a time in human history where hoards of people suffer under the thumb of the ‘sadness sickness’… except in the last decade or so. Perhaps people back in the day were too busy to be concerned with it or that it was misdiagnosed as the ‘blues’ or something. Even during the great depression people lived on and took the hard times in stride. If ever there were a time to be depressed and want to kill yourself, that would be it. But they didn’t. They were strong. Today however, it seems like suicide is running ramped among people especially the youth of today. And this is the time of technology, of great scientific discoveries and the wonders of modern conveniences! So what is it that we want to kill ourselves? We’re like lemmings anymore, which brings to mind a different idea of mine.

Perhaps depression is a biological way that the human race thins itself out every once in a while. Much like the lemmings do. Were cavemen ever depressed? If so, they probably died early and so didn’t pass on their genes to the next generation, thus making the human gene stronger. Think about it. Depression is the only disease that I know of that makes you want to die. If our bodies were programmed to live, then why does such an illness exist unless it’s to weed out the weak genes… hmmm…

I don’t know, if I did, I wouldn’t be depressed. I don’t want to die but some force within me is urging me to snuff it. The pain I feel can’t be described. Even if I had everything I’ve ever wanted or needed, I think I’d still be unhappy. But what is happiness? Does it come from an outer stimuli, or from within? I know that I can’t have happiness from within unless I have a stimulus to set the ball in motion so to speak. The same for my depression as well. I’ll be fine until something triggers my bad thoughts into a rolling snowball of despair. It grows bigger and bigger until I can’t handle it anymore and I just want to die to make it go away. Nothing else works. I’ve tried movies, music, games, and talking to my friends… but it just burns a hole in my heart…my soul… so big it seems nothing can fill it. Emptiness that may never be filled.

At first I thought it might be because I need love. I mean, I do have love… from my family and friends… but I need something more. The love and support of a partner or perhaps love upon a higher level. The spiritual love that many a religious person can feel. I’ve been there and tried that but I can’t feel anything. The love from a life partner might help, I think, but I have yet to find him and I doubt I ever will, but that’s another rant for another day.

What else can I say, there’s no real point to this essay/rant, whatever you want to call it, so I guess I’ll end on this… I tried in Oct. 2002 to kill myself with Tylenol. I swallowed 20 some pills I think. I spent a week in the hospital and I’m going to pay for that little stunt… literally. Has my near death (yeah right) experience taught me that suicide is not the answer!? Hell No! I still want to die, but I figure why not give my life a shot. After all I am going to die… so it’s not like it’ll never happen. In the meantime I’m taking ‘happy pills’ as I like to call them and they seem to be working OK. I hate therapy but I go once a month to talk out my problems and it manages to piss me off for the rest of the day. Oh well, at least I can plan some of the days I’m going to be pissed off. I do try to keep up hope that my life will get better, and I try to think of all the things in life I find enjoyable, however few there are. Much like Pandora’s box I contain many demons within me, demons that I’d like to kill with me, but when it comes down to it, I have a little hope… and that is one bastard that’s really fucking hard to kill.

(Since I wrote this, I have found a better anti-depressant and I now have a boyfriend. They have been doing wonders for me, but I can't help but wonder how long my 'happyness' is going to last. Will I revert to my old self loathing if I break up with my guy? Or will I emerge stronger? Only time will tell.)