City High.
I can't sleep now. I'm so past the point of sleeping that the point has become invisible.
***
The thing about Depression is that there are many things about it. It's one of those things that one is so tempted to make exclusive. I am so tempted to say that you won't understand it until you've actually hit it yourself. I'm tempted to say it's worse than your everyday emo, your friendly neighborhood drama, your PMS mode on turbo. I could say it's not like one of those days, when everything is just not going right, and everybody seems to have turned their backs on you, and the only thing you want to do is kill yourself because nothing is worse than this, not the poverty in this world, not the hungry children's suffering, not the abused person's situation, no, this is much, much worse.
I'm tempted to say that, but I probably shouldn't. Because Depression is not an exclusive club that is "better" than the other mental conditions. It's not a club anyone should aspire to be a part of.
It's a ticking time bomb that lurks in the background. It is made even worse by its exclusivity. It is a more than just mere negativity or loss of hope, because it is consistent. It is so much worse when it is hidden, but also just as bad when it is sensationalized like this, when it is talked about. There is no glamour in it. There is no pain or hurting in Depression, there is only a long, drawn-out blank.
Depression is magnified feeling and sensitivity, emotion, compassion, love, hatred, religion, politics, humanitarianism, self-loathing, art. It is just that kind of profundity that pushes you off the edge.
I've known moments of such high hope and happiness that I can't help smiling, that I had to cover my face to conceal this abnormal feeling of being thankful and alive, for the wonderment of all things and the beautiful details that I see in macro. I utilize these moments by starting something good, because my faith in all of creation is such that I don't believe for one moment that anything is un-fixable, un-rightable. This is fed by compliments, by appreciation, acknowledgement, by mere existence, and in fact, anything and everything encourages it to get better.
This high is caused by Depression.
I know this because almost immediately after such a high, there is a very steep drop. And in that place, I can spend hours looking at my hands, no exaggeration here, HOURS just staring at my hands and thinking of the things they can do but don't. Deeply buried in those thoughts are 10,000 other things rushing to be thought about. The plight of humanity. The galaxies. The mechanics of existence. The purpose of one's life. My next door neighbor. The tons of work that need doing. A towel on the floor. Thread counts.
Pure madness.
Did I say sadness? Yes, that's what I meant. Profound sorrow. The exact opposite of uncontrollable smiling.
I try my best, when I feel the onset of Depression, to fight it. Because I don't want to be like you. Your incoherence annoys me when you are depressed. Your disregard for everything and everyone around you. That self-importance. That snubbing that you have perfected.
I will not be like you.
***
I've discovered that my kind of Depression can be temporarily cured by the most mundane and non-profound of things.
Like City High's music.
There is so much in life to be thankful for. I have a working mind. I have a job. I am able to do things, one good deed a day. I have parents who could be more than who they are, but who have made me into who I am - a person I like even if no one else does. I have siblings I don't talk to but who still post pictures of me on their Facebook profiles, who speak affectionately of me and to me. I have a job that I hate, but that has taught me tolerance and hard work. I have friends who are not like me, who sometimes don't understand me, but they listen to me anyway and they yell at me to duck when I don't see something going straight at me. I love and I am loved.
I suffer badly, but I soar when I don't.
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