Depression (trigger warning: suicide, self-harm, ableism)

There’s something quite insidious about depression. It prevents me from doing anything I want to quite often. In fact, it is only by forcing myself quite strenuously that I am writing this at all, and the fact that I misspelled strenuously and had to use the spell-check in Firefox to fix it made me almost upset enough to want to stop writing altogether, curl up into a little ball, and die.

Depression has no reason. I should be friggin ecstatic right now, but instead about 2 hours ago my boyfriend had to talk me down from a pill overdose.

I don’t say this for attention. I don’t normally tell people these things at all. But something occurred to me, in the murky depths of how shitty I’m feeling at the moment, and it’s this: there are other people in the same state out there. Other people who may read my blog. Who may not talk about it either. And who may, like I have tried to do so many times, finally succeed at leaving this boa constrictor we call the mortal coil.

Please don’t.

Continue reading Depression (trigger warning: suicide, self-harm, ableism)

Upon the Leaving of the Boyfriend: it is sad times

(at the bus stop)

Me: I don’t want you to go. It is sad times when you go.

Him: You’ll be busy! Doing stuff. Won’t even notice I’m gone.

Me: NO. I WILL DO NOTHING BUT WATCH FUTURAMA AND DRINK WHISKEY.

Him: …instead of watching Futurama and drinking vodka?

Me: Totally different. Whiskey is sad drink. Vodka is happy drink.

Him: ……

Me: Ok, I lied. They’re both sad drinks. I AM A SAD PERSON.

Him: *hugs me, and then gets on the bus to leave me for a long sad time*