Yes I know the personal blogs are probably wearing a bit thin with you all by now as you patiently await my next public outrage at some laughable aspect to our society but I assure you that you will have what you seek very soon, just let me update you on all things Jacob Wolfe first. Ok, so as I announced yesterday I’ve started taking some light medication for my highly probable relapse into depression and despite my initial skepticism, the pills are helping in so far as I get three hours of creative inspiration and the energy to do decent impersonations of Sonic the Hedgehog, followed by returning back to being a miserable git very slowly over time as if someone has a dimmer switch to my feelings of elation. I enjoy the high points though; everything is suddenly very fluffy and conversations don’t seem to end ‘No, why don’t you fuck yourself this time, you hopeless imbecile?’
Depression is a funny thing to live with really and today in my psychology class we began to study it when someone asked, nonchalantly:
“So what is depression? Are we talking slit wrists here or just being sad?”
Firstly, I responded by saying I resented the stereotype as it seems the common man thinks of depression as little more than being a melodramatic vampire with a pain fetish and eye make up but that’s mostly a scene image and it isn’t true of all of us. Depression isn’t visible and doesn’t necessarily involve self-harming, though it does usually lead to self-destructive tendencies whether they be physical or just mental processes based on clearly irrational logic. I can’t really sum up depression too easily but to put it to you in visual terms, imagine being told to climb up a waterfall whilst dressed in full body armour and with a ball and chain around your ankle; it’s a bloody hard thing to get out of and you end up falling a lot. I often find that when I’m in this state, holding onto a positive thought is like trying to grab wet soap with no hands and a blindfold on. There isn’t a quick fix and those who suffer with it are often given a few pills and told to get over it but considering the pills can have the nasty side effect of making you as bat shit crazy as injecting heroin into a Tasmanian devil and that ‘getting over it’ seems to be a lengthy process, one can often feel victimized by these professionals and it only repeats the cycle further. You get upset because something goes wrong so you develop a negative thought process that causes things to go wrong and so you get upset and develop more negative thoughts that cause ARFGHTYKLFGHDRH!
All things considered, I’m aiming to be positive about this whole thing and hopefully cut the circle of self-loathing short, thereby fixing my problem (Do not tell me this is desperate logic; it’ll only induce further downward spiralling in the long run) I want this to work because I do enjoy enjoying things; oh such distant memories of seeing flowers and not stamping on them for being pretentious petal-wearing bastards, thinking they’re prettier than me. I have feelings people and I will aim to concentrate on the good ones in future with the help of my magic pills. Seriously though, I’m not gonna rely on these buggers but I’m just going to use them as an aid for getting through social interaction, so that’s one before leaving the house in the morning and one before logging onto Facebook which then allows me four or five hours of being someone genuinely likeable, followed by a Cinderella like transformation back into an angry troll, at which point I’ll run with my face covered under a rock of course. Aha, I joke I joke, I’ll pick up said rock and lob it at someone because anger. Honestly, half the stuff I say nowadays is sarcasm, perhaps even more so. Incidentally, this isn’t helped by having sarcastic friends and so one can often find themselves in a loop much like that one episode of South Park where the whole world becomes subdued by sarcasm and ends up stuck without the ability to be sincere whatsoever. Well, whatever the case, it seems being me has its perks and combining a sour attitude with a laptop results in a popular blog, who’d have thought it? I thought my ultimate destiny was to become the scourge of the comment section on YouTube, the kinda twat who calls every video fake and goes on and on about how frequently he has seen your mother naked but then I remembered that whilst I’m a sarcastic twat, I’m a sarcastic twat with friends and a future in life.