a pause for solemn reflection. these tears are real, champ.
i'm reading other people's journals. lord knows why. i guess i paid a bit of money too. value-adding. just wondering why you might want to grandstand about what's meant to be an inhibition. depression and all. there's a fantastic amount of people, some of them not so young at all, who go on about these things a little more than they should.
shouldn't imagine it would be that hard to be diagnosed with clinical depression even if you were not to have it. shouldn't imagine it would be that hard to start writing and chatting like you were an emotionally depressed person and thus convincing yourself into being one. shouldn't imagine it it is too hard to purchase space online or even offline in the form of a bound diary or something to write onwards and onwards about your condition. don't imagine there is much hope for the condition that is - not RELEASED by having been written 'out', but - bottled and isolated by being written away into some kind of framed, encased glory. don't imagine there is much hope for the person that puts their condition on a pedestal, particularly when they didn't really have it in the first place. there isn't much hope for the person that turns an invented condition into a very real and glamourised one. i shouldn't imagine it is too hard to start lashing out at work, school or university colleagues because you are in the middle of thinking or writing about this condition you have fabricated and they are attempting to bring you back down from your constructed and girdered plane of importance. i am quite sure your fabricated condition it is of little importance to the next, man, woman, child or dog. i am reasonably certain that were your condition to be real, you might not have had it diagnosed; and the importance or lack thereof to the people around you might not be nearly so important. i am sure that these truffles can't just be snorted out from the dirt, like dry little bones.
anyway, it's amazing. you'd think some people's lives were filled with nothing but moping. i suppose they are. put your shoes on and go get some fresh air in your clockwork, young children, because certainly nothing *i* do or say is designed to help, in the slightest. so. let's get back to normal now. i need to talk more about meat washing, below.
shouldn't imagine it would be that hard to be diagnosed with clinical depression even if you were not to have it. shouldn't imagine it would be that hard to start writing and chatting like you were an emotionally depressed person and thus convincing yourself into being one. shouldn't imagine it it is too hard to purchase space online or even offline in the form of a bound diary or something to write onwards and onwards about your condition. don't imagine there is much hope for the condition that is - not RELEASED by having been written 'out', but - bottled and isolated by being written away into some kind of framed, encased glory. don't imagine there is much hope for the person that puts their condition on a pedestal, particularly when they didn't really have it in the first place. there isn't much hope for the person that turns an invented condition into a very real and glamourised one. i shouldn't imagine it is too hard to start lashing out at work, school or university colleagues because you are in the middle of thinking or writing about this condition you have fabricated and they are attempting to bring you back down from your constructed and girdered plane of importance. i am quite sure your fabricated condition it is of little importance to the next, man, woman, child or dog. i am reasonably certain that were your condition to be real, you might not have had it diagnosed; and the importance or lack thereof to the people around you might not be nearly so important. i am sure that these truffles can't just be snorted out from the dirt, like dry little bones.
anyway, it's amazing. you'd think some people's lives were filled with nothing but moping. i suppose they are. put your shoes on and go get some fresh air in your clockwork, young children, because certainly nothing *i* do or say is designed to help, in the slightest. so. let's get back to normal now. i need to talk more about meat washing, below.