(no subject)
I saw Ryder on Saturday. It was weird.
I spoke to him for about a minute today. He had "that tone."
He's sending me a letter in the mail. I already know what it's going to say.
He didn't have to tell me.
About 10 minutes ago I went up to my dad to say goodnight and he said "what's wrong?"
I stared at him. "I'm extremely depressed and I need therapy."
"Why are you depressed?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You never want to talk about it."
"Well normally depressed people don't like talking about their depression."
He offered me a hug.
A hug? Your hug isn't going to help me. I mean, I hugged him. but.
Valerie just just sitting there like Ohhh why are you depressed?
"How do you know you're depressed?"
You fucking idiot. What a question.
I said I'm obviously depressed enough to actually ask for help.
I've never asked before. Ever. My dad would occasionally offer a suggestion like therapy and I would get all haughty and defensive and say something along the lines of "Therapists don't help. blah blah blah." but I just went up to him and asked. I'm done being haughty. I'm done acting like I'm okay. I say goodnight and walk away. I'm brushing my teeth and I hear footsteps into the hall and back down again. Valerie says, "She's in the bathroom." About 2 seconds later I walk out and into my room and hear more footsteps and a tap on my door. Open it. It's my dad.
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Well, I don't want you to be depressed."
"Well that's great, I don't want to be depressed."
"Is there anything that I can do to help?"
"No. There's not."
I walk into the kitchen. He follows me. I'm putting dishes away.
"Please don't do this."
"Do what?"
"This. I told you I don't want to talk about it."
He hugs me again. I don't hug back.
"Well, I just want you to know that I'm here in case you decide you do want to talk about it."
"I know. I've always known. But you're not a person who can help me."
Blah blah blah. I feel like shit. I hate life. Depression sucks. THE END!
I spoke to him for about a minute today. He had "that tone."
He's sending me a letter in the mail. I already know what it's going to say.
He didn't have to tell me.
About 10 minutes ago I went up to my dad to say goodnight and he said "what's wrong?"
I stared at him. "I'm extremely depressed and I need therapy."
"Why are you depressed?"
"I don't want to talk about it."
"You never want to talk about it."
"Well normally depressed people don't like talking about their depression."
He offered me a hug.
A hug? Your hug isn't going to help me. I mean, I hugged him. but.
Valerie just just sitting there like Ohhh why are you depressed?
"How do you know you're depressed?"
You fucking idiot. What a question.
I said I'm obviously depressed enough to actually ask for help.
I've never asked before. Ever. My dad would occasionally offer a suggestion like therapy and I would get all haughty and defensive and say something along the lines of "Therapists don't help. blah blah blah." but I just went up to him and asked. I'm done being haughty. I'm done acting like I'm okay. I say goodnight and walk away. I'm brushing my teeth and I hear footsteps into the hall and back down again. Valerie says, "She's in the bathroom." About 2 seconds later I walk out and into my room and hear more footsteps and a tap on my door. Open it. It's my dad.
"I don't want to talk about this."
"Well, I don't want you to be depressed."
"Well that's great, I don't want to be depressed."
"Is there anything that I can do to help?"
"No. There's not."
I walk into the kitchen. He follows me. I'm putting dishes away.
"Please don't do this."
"Do what?"
"This. I told you I don't want to talk about it."
He hugs me again. I don't hug back.
"Well, I just want you to know that I'm here in case you decide you do want to talk about it."
"I know. I've always known. But you're not a person who can help me."
Blah blah blah. I feel like shit. I hate life. Depression sucks. THE END!