a victoria p


10 September 2007

depression is a two way street.

depression is a two way street. it is about the people surrounding you, the lovers surrounding you, the family surrounding you, the friends surrounding you. there are choices you make after an incident which will spiral depression into a hole drilled so deep it is uneasy to dig yourself out. there are the bigger life things. growing up with an ill mother. your own health scares. men you have met in bars and protection assignments there after. time you spend with someone you love. countless hours with someone and nothing, absolutely nothing, to show for it. fighting to keep your friends through any incident's aftermath is a battle in itself, regardless of overcoming the actual incident. there is a line that is crossed when certain time has passed and nothing has healed in the way it should have. money is tight. family is cold. love is hard. these are all things that can be faced during a time of solitude. and not a solitude by choice, which i guess the appropriate word for is just, alone.

i find myself sitting in front of a blank television screen, on a dirty couch. i'm wearing a dress. i have painted my face simple. i have shaved my legs thoroughly. i am ready to go out and pretend to love the life i have been living.

time has passed and left me alone, on yet another night. but, i tell myself, i am not alone. i have myself. and that's the one person i will always have. the one person i know best. and, the one person i should love more than anyone, in a balance of selfishness and selflessness.

i say that depression is a two way street because of the choices you make in dealing with it; to succumb to it, or fail to it. failing to depression does not sound sensible, in comparison to worldly issues, to say the least. but, i believe that what is in each of our heads is justified to us to be the worst possible circumstance, or rather, the best circumstance, leading us to give off the emotions necessary to express how we feel. each of our minds are it's own little world, fighting it's own little battles, and laughing at its own little rewards.

as far as the other choices go: succumbing to depression for me has set me into a world of paranoia. i have at this point nearly convinced myself that the people i used to know and used to choose to love me are now just lending me their pity. and there is only so much they can do, which is why this evening i am wearing a dress with no place to go.

i feel that in a lot of ways i am selfless, as long as i am motivated by a deep love of whatever i am selfless for. i would never leave a loved one, of any kind, on the street to sleep alone on cold pavement, but i would also never leave anyone i loved to their own cruel devices, if they were in a situation such as mine. which, accordingly, makes me want to be ruthless. disappear. but i am not a person of magic acts, and lord knows i am not a person that can change my personality on que. i am rash, forward, and relentless with my silent, unspoken emotions. but also, i am understanding and forgiving, with my eyes and words.

succumbing to depression for me has left me here, on this couch, many of nights, fighting back drips of mascara and sobbing small squeaks and sniffles in order to avoid all together hysterics. it has surrounded me with beer bottles and cigarette ash, to my left, right, and feet. it has left me staring blankly at television shows that i never engaged in prior, just to try to play tricks on my emotions. it has left me with pills, cocaine, and knives, on its dirtiest nights. and it has left me begging, begging the people that once loved me for help. in ways they can no longer offer to help me, and in ways where i am too far gone to be cared for. i have lost myself, on these nights. i have knocked myself out against a wall in order to sleep, only to wake up ours later on a wooden floor covered with ash and saliva dripping out of the side of my mouth. there have been many passing days in which i don't get dressed, i don't brush my teeth, and i just sit here, on the couch, and am left to my empty body. and i fall asleep, on the couch, and do it all again the next day.

i believe that i have succumbed to my depression and that every day is a battle of not letting myself fail to it.

i spend my days cold, alone, completely removed and completely disappointed in myself.

now, how to deal with depression.

yes, i have a job.

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