(no subject)
these drugs make me so happy, it can be at times exhilarating! I'm just looking over the three entries that I've put in ( I know, not really alot for criticism, But) my other journal is so different and so depressing. I guess the thing is, yes I am stressed, but I'm not hysterically depressed so its all ok
In fact, I've been experiencing this wonderful creative, fast thinking mood all day. I always believed that my creativity was not my own, but rather a thing brought out, or upon my being through depression. But now I am beginning to feel as if that's not the case and I actually have the capactity to be creative on my own right. Perhaps the reason I always associated creativity with depression as only when I was incredibly depressed did I feel like sitting down and writing poetry about life, images, feelings and blackness, as that was all that could surround me.
I will never understand why some individuals, think that being or acting depressed is cool. Sure, the gothic/grunge/punk thing being en vouge has made depression en vouge as well, but if some of these absolute fools understood what it is like to be depressed, I don't think they would actually want to appear to be depressed. Furthermore, the people that do carry on with this "I'm depressed, look at me, I"M GOING TO KILL MYSELF, LOOK AT ME I CUT" BULLSHIT are the people that most likely couldn't stand being around someone who truly is loseing thier mind
I have always thought that the best way to describe depression is by comparing it to first falling in love. Their is something so, absolutely beautiful about falling in love. This feeling surrounds you, envelopes you, it's like being wrapped in the soft silky scent of roses and drifting along in a cool afternoon breeze, held gently afloat, separated from the monotony and dirtyness of the real world. On the other hand, depression, is too, incredibly enveloping, if not at times, suffocating. It's like drowning in this deep, murky and clingy, sticky, like molasses pool, surrounded by your own hate, guilt and hopelessness, until you are constantly sick in the stomach.
And that, my dear friend, is why cutting becomes so easy, and so attractive. Sometimes the feelings of guilt and self disgust and just plain, bitter helplessness become so overwhelming that instead of crying, yet again, I experience (well used to before I got on the happy drugs) this overwhelming aggresive frustration. And basically, that was when I would whip out anything I could get my hands on. At first, I did it as it was almost a romantic idea, i want to make my body resemble my mind, my brain, why is it that this can appear so clean, when I am so dirty on the inside, this is untruthful, decietful. It's a facade but, later, or should I say sooner, once I felt the intense relief that hurting myself produced, I became almost obssessed with the idea. the feeling that follows the pain is this intense relief, like a large sigh, or perhaps alot like that feeling you get after an orgasm, but almost better And this began another war within myself, the want to cut but also the incredible want not to cut, not to admit that I was sick.
In fact, I've been experiencing this wonderful creative, fast thinking mood all day. I always believed that my creativity was not my own, but rather a thing brought out, or upon my being through depression. But now I am beginning to feel as if that's not the case and I actually have the capactity to be creative on my own right. Perhaps the reason I always associated creativity with depression as only when I was incredibly depressed did I feel like sitting down and writing poetry about life, images, feelings and blackness, as that was all that could surround me.
I will never understand why some individuals, think that being or acting depressed is cool. Sure, the gothic/grunge/punk thing being en vouge has made depression en vouge as well, but if some of these absolute fools understood what it is like to be depressed, I don't think they would actually want to appear to be depressed. Furthermore, the people that do carry on with this "I'm depressed, look at me, I"M GOING TO KILL MYSELF, LOOK AT ME I CUT" BULLSHIT are the people that most likely couldn't stand being around someone who truly is loseing thier mind
I have always thought that the best way to describe depression is by comparing it to first falling in love. Their is something so, absolutely beautiful about falling in love. This feeling surrounds you, envelopes you, it's like being wrapped in the soft silky scent of roses and drifting along in a cool afternoon breeze, held gently afloat, separated from the monotony and dirtyness of the real world. On the other hand, depression, is too, incredibly enveloping, if not at times, suffocating. It's like drowning in this deep, murky and clingy, sticky, like molasses pool, surrounded by your own hate, guilt and hopelessness, until you are constantly sick in the stomach.
And that, my dear friend, is why cutting becomes so easy, and so attractive. Sometimes the feelings of guilt and self disgust and just plain, bitter helplessness become so overwhelming that instead of crying, yet again, I experience (well used to before I got on the happy drugs) this overwhelming aggresive frustration. And basically, that was when I would whip out anything I could get my hands on. At first, I did it as it was almost a romantic idea, i want to make my body resemble my mind, my brain, why is it that this can appear so clean, when I am so dirty on the inside, this is untruthful, decietful. It's a facade but, later, or should I say sooner, once I felt the intense relief that hurting myself produced, I became almost obssessed with the idea. the feeling that follows the pain is this intense relief, like a large sigh, or perhaps alot like that feeling you get after an orgasm, but almost better And this began another war within myself, the want to cut but also the incredible want not to cut, not to admit that I was sick.