This will not be cheerful
You may have noticed a lot of personal posts and that funny posts are far and few between up here. I told you all I was self-medicating for possible depression and that initially it was working out for me, aside from the fact the effects were short bursts of joy that melted into apathy, but still it was progress. I saw my GP and he sent me away with a questionnaire to fill in about how depressed I am; whether or not I sleep well, eat well, hurt myself, think about ending my own life, enjoy what I do, and unsurprisingly I scored in the twenties on a scale of twenty seven for depression so I now have to return this form and see what he will do with me. I scare myself at times because I don’t feel like myself and though I’m cynical by nature, sometimes I lose the plot entirely and freak out at anyone who I think will take it. I feel safe to explode and be emotional around loved ones, but now my girlfriend weeps for me and I’ve lost friends due to it. I know some of you will say that I deserve it, and you’ll smile like a smug little shit that my world is falling apart around me because I’m an arse but I come to you humbly to say that this is just how things are, you needn’t make comment at all.
I want to rant more, to make you all laugh and smile. I encourage people to laugh at my expense because even then, they are smiling and I am the reason for it. This blog has given me so much pride in my ability as a writer because just two days ago, I got 100 views in one night and I was ecstatic about it. Writing is my passion because, though I sound the arrogant twat in written form, in reality I barely speak a word to anyone about anything – my own family and girlfriend included. I’m a reserved man and save all emotions for those I think I can trust enough to witness them, but otherwise I am playing as myself through smoked glass for social reasons. I’ve hurt many friends, and made many enemies either through being a pigheaded fool or through trying to defend something, and my life is full of people who will never speak to me again. I never gave it much thought but recently, it’s started to hurt and all the scars of my past ache as one inside my head, laughing at me for my failures in life. I used to just power my way through anything and everything and thought myself the greatest man alive when I was younger, and even now the arrogance I display is that of self-assured superiority of intellect and complexity than my peers but ultimately it is all just a bluff, a safeguard to hide the shame I feel in being me.
Friends and lovers, you are exceptional creatures if you truly value me as something more than a destructive and unsocial monstrosity that you manage to cope with because there are times when I really don’t like myself. My enemies, and there are many, love to look down upon me as this scheming and filthy little cretin that plagues their existence and should be snuffed out and though I loathe being patronised and looked down upon, especially by those whom I do not consider greater beings, I cannot do much more than bark. I’m weak, physically and mentally, and have been for some time. I used to fight off all enemies with ease and would crush anyone who dared speak against me but now I can’t find the strength to swat a fly. I’m falling apart and my whole world is crashing and burning but I don’t write to you to beg for the mercy of my fellow men but to tell them that if this is what they sought, they have won. I am a broken man, a wolf without claws. Look at me now, revealing the weakness in my heart to an anonymous sea of glaring screens and scrutinising eyes that look to me and expect to see something. A hero, a comedian, a fool, a monster – I am all these things and none, for I fear I cannot remember who I truly am or who I truly wanted to be. I wanted only to live for love and honour, to make my mother proud of the son who hesitated and cowered in fear, and to show the world that I am a man to be recognised through the words of my soul.
This was inevitable and now I am lost inside of myself, fighting a war in my own head as to who I should be? Does this chaos justify anger? Fear? Should I weep and beg for salvation? Should I shift the blame for what went wrong in my life to my situation or onto others? Was I ever justified in anything I did in my life, or does justice count for nothing in this age? I must seek answers within myself and my past if I am to have a future where I can call myself a man of the people and ever hope to mend the broken bridges between myself and this world we live in.