Feeling like absolute shit

It’s a Sunday. Yesterday I planned to visit my cousin to play with her kids a little, to recharge my batteries. My cousin said she caught some bug, she’s puking all day, so I didn’t go.

Today my uncle came over with the older daughter (of my cousin’s), who’s 5, and I played with her a lot, we clowned around and stuff. Actually, she’s still here, as she didn’t wanna leave when my uncle was leaving, so she stayed for lunch and is now playing outside with my sister and my brother-in-law.

I should be out there with them, playing some more while she’s still here, these kids are like 60% of the reason I come home from the city, to see them. But I’m, once again, just feeling like absolute shit, sitting in my room, thinking about ways the world and my brain is fucked up, feeling sorry for myself.

I’m not even really feeling sorry for myself, it’s more like I hate myself for being like this. Why am I like this? Why am I like this?

Nothing brings me joy, not even shit working out fine in my life. I am miserable. This stupid mental illness fucks up my whole program.

I have a lot of fun, I can have a lot of fun, but as soon as I’m left alone with my own thoughts for a minute, the stupid shitty voice comes back and starts telling me how fucked up everything is.

I know it isn’t, but depression is like one of those fucked up mirrors that show you a distorted image of things. My depression-mirror keeps showing me a fucked up world, a fucked up life, the face of a fucked up man.

I don’t want this. I just wanna be happy for once. I wanna be satisfied with shit, I wanna be just like “Ahhh, this is so fucking nice” just once in my life.

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This is my De(com)pression Chamber, a vehicle I use to (com)municate my thoughts to decompress as I, hopefully, emerge from the depths of depression.

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Decompression Chamber

Decompression Chamber

This is my De(com)pression Chamber, a vehicle I use to (com)municate my thoughts to decompress as I, hopefully, emerge from the depths of depression.

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