Why am I so depressed that I want to fucking die!
My name is Bob the Unicorn. I was born in nineteen two, and I am so depressed. Like depressed all the time. Yet there’s so much to be grateful for from my own ability to fly, my ability to attend tap dance shows, and my ability to speak, hear, move are all blessing! Yet, I can be so happy. But why am I so fucking depressed.
I feel even lesser for being depressed because I don’t feel grateful for all good I have. I feel like a child, an even lesser person. As if I am ungrateful unicorn. This world is shrouded with so much suffering, and so many people in worse conditions yet I have things fairly well.
Yet, I can be so happy, so full of joy, and so full of whim, and fancy! That makes my depression feel disingenuous, and superficial. Something I have wanted to avoid my whole life, and it makes it all more worse.
Yet, I can’t help but be depressed. It’s mainly because I realize that I am lazy, incapable of thinking intelligently, and incapable of getting my act together. So that I can pursue my dreams of being best tap dancing unicorn out there.
For so much of my life, I have had tried to pass blame on to other people. While my parents did have a big five percent with their small scale abuse, and all. They are definitely troubled people, but they are deeply loving in their way, and do try their best even though I know only reason they do ever care for me is because of religion. That aside, they do try best, the damndest to do things, and they care in way.
Yes a lot of childhood trauma has had severe impact on me as a person. From memory of getting hit with colorful whip that blasted so many colors, to getting my meals stripped, and raw rage directed at me for being a petty stupid child is something that’s severely impacted me. But I am only one who can be blamed at end of the day.
I have hurt so many people in my life. That I feel I may deserve to die, to rot alone, and to be depressed. I just feel terrible, and like there’s nothing worth it.
Another reason is well, I realize I incapable of forming any strong relationships. I so desperately want someone to share joys, ups, downs, and someone to talk. I want all types of strong relationship of people I can seriously talk too, and be around. But because who I am with my severe anxiety, my inability to form functional conversation, and my weirdness being so out of control, I can’t even get that right.
A lot of times my depression is just random, and so arbitrary. Like for example someone at my work was ordering a rainbow filled slushy asked if I would like any I said please. Then eventually it comes but none for me, I didn’t say peep, and I told myself over, and over again that it was their money, it’s expensive, that it wasn’t like I never did anything like that, and they probably forgot. But I couldn’t help but feel completely crushed, and depression got even more worse because I realized just how petty it was, how childish, and banal it was.
Now with my mother, and my father now finally pursuing their dreams of moving out into banal rainbow land country. My mom claims it’s because she needs work, and I acknowledge she can do whatever she likes. Yet this is bad for me, meaning I will have to quite good job I have, no solid work, no way to pursue any of the artistic shows, I so love, no future, have no one to socialize with in real life and I feel like things will only get worse, I mean stuck out in goddamn country with my conservative parents, what a fucking nightmare.
Depression only gets worse because I know that’s it my fault. I can’t get myself together, I can’t bring myself to pursue anything, and I am so dumb. All this makes me know I’ll never be able to tap dance like some of my other great unicorn dancers, and it’s all because of me.
I just have this feeling things will only get worse. I think things are bad but they will only grow worse, and worse. Before it becomes too much next thing I know, I am homeless dying of some unknown disease all alone rotting in corner.
I keep thinking that maybe suicide is the best option. That only way to save myself from myself is to end it all. The misery, the pain, and hurt is becoming too great to handle. All too engulfing, and all too great.
Yet, fear of death, fear of killing myself and realization that there’s still so much to live for. Is all too powerful, but then hurt kicks in that maybe all potential that makes life worth it for me is out of grasp. But thought of killing myself hurts me, and I think about people it could hurt despite not having a great connection too they would be.
I am rambling, but I would rather feel depressed a whole month than not feeling any emotion because feeling emotion is what makes life worth. Yet as I make this bold proclamation there’s a looming irony, and that’s I am able to hardly handle my own emotional state that my depression is growing even worse each passing day. Yet it still does remain.
As I finish my proclamation, this is why I am so depressed. It’s complex, it’s messy, and I honestly want to fucking die! But yet maybe some hope, and maybe there isn’t, maybe I am just meant to rot as superficial shallow horrible person I am. Yet, I want to live, and yet, I don’t.
