And I Know…

I have very strong opinions on suicide and depression, or mental illnesses in general.
I know, I am the first one to say that there are people in the world who have it SO much worse than others. Why should I have the nerve or the right to talk and complain about my ‘sadness’?
There are people with real illnesses-physical illnesses or impairments who can’t walk, can’t talk, can’t do the things that fortunate people can that we so often take for granted. And they are the most positive people most of the time. I admire them for that-I love them for that. Because, I could never do that. What the fuck gives me the right to be ‘sad’?
Well I’m sorry, but here is my rant:
There are worse things happening in some peoples’ lives than others with just depression. Just depression. Depression. Sadness. Unhappiness. It will eat you up, and spit you out. It will make you mean, it will make you sad, it will make you not want to live. It will make you wish you were dead. Dead.
It invades your mind and corrupts your soul and spirit. Nothing is happiness- nothing is content-ness. Nothing is ever just so.
Let me tell you something:
There ARE worse things in this world than depression. I can name at least 5 people I personally know and love who have been through hell of a lot worse than what I say I have.
Just so we’re clear, I do admire those people. They are strong. They are an inspiration. But I’m sorry.
Depression isn’t something that’s made up. I have no reason to be sad. I have every reason to be happy. I’m grateful for the wonderful life I have, and the amazing people in it. And the experiences I take in. But there’s always something. The medication can only do so much for so long.
So to those of you who think depression or any mental illness isn’t a real thing, fuck off.
I’m the first person to say that I need to shut up and go with the flow-there are people in this world who have it way worse than you. Which is true. However, its not always so easy and simple.
I believe it is a disease. A disease of the mind. My poor mind.
Everything is smothered in a black cloud of gloom. No matter what I do or where I go.
No, I’m not trying to throw a pity party or feel bad for myself. I could give two fucks about myself. And that’s my problem.
I care about other people’s happiness. Not mine.
What does pure happiness even feel like? Does anyone know?
And I know…
This is a pointless rant. Just thought I’d put it out there.


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