Thought Processes

There’s an old proverb

About how you can’t eat money

What kind of disgusting world requires money?

I realized today

You can have all the wealth in the world

Every material good

All things you ever begged for in Target

But money doesn’t love you

and you can’t love money

If I had the whole world in my palm

I would give it up, because I’ve forgotten how to be happy

I’m not happy when my family loves me

I’m not happy when I receive gifts that are worth enough to feed an African family for a year

I’m not happy when my friends are happy

I’m not happy with myself

I’m not happy that I write all these things

I’m not happy that christmas is tomorrow

I once received praise, a few days ago, and I didn’t know how to react

I’m mentally ill, I slip in and out of the illness.

I’ll act happy, to make everyone else happy, because that’s the least I can do at this point

I’m 17 today. I received hundreds of dollars today. I would happily give it all away, to be happy.

Maybe if I lie enough, go through the motions enough, one day I’ll believe it.

Maybe that’s all happiness is, people lying to themselves until they can’t distinguish between the lie and the real thing.

And then a few lucky people actually end up with the real thing.

I can self analyze, I can trace the root of all my problems, I can understand want I yearn for, I can understand people’s minds, I’ve spent hours upon hours just reading about depression, loneliness, people, relationships. I understand it all, and it’s no help whatsoever. I understand that 2 + 2 = 4 but I have no clue how to add 2 + 2 to get 4. I’m still stuck at 2 + 2, adding meaningless quantities over and over, and ending up with the same result: I don’t know.

I’m an introvert. I can’t lie to myself. I’ve been lonely since 8th grade. I thought I was enlightened, I thought I understood friendship on an entirely new level, and I did. But with that enlightenment came the dawning realization, that I had no friends. I would be more than happy to remain ignorant, to desire only to have people to talk about classes with, because enlightenment is no fun.

My friend thinks that I’m sad when she’s happy because I’m jealous. I once wanted her, and she dated someone else. She’s right and wrong, I am jealous, but not of her boyfriend, only of them. They have a fantastic relationship, good for them, they have each other. They have love and happiness. All I can think when I see them is: “I wish I had that”. I also know why, it’s because I have no self esteem and depression. I haven’t felt needed or truly loved by anyone, although I am, I haven’t loved or trusted anyone wholly. I wish I could be happy for them, but how can I be happy for someone else when I’m not even happy with myself? When I can’t even be happy on my birthday, when my family expresses their love for me and come to do things with me.

So to my dearest friend: it has nothing to do with you, I wish you the best, and I wish I could be happy for you, but I can’t. I have depression, you see, I have had it for years. To be happy for someone else you first must be happy with yourself, I’ve been trying to work on the latter for years. One day, I will get there. You misunderstood one thing: I am not jealous of only you and your relationship, I am jealous of all my friends, and the good things in their lives, your life just happens to be particularly fantastic, which is why it is more acutely painful for myself.

I have realized several things in writing this, I can be both happy and depressed, this is a weird poem/essay/rant, and that this would make a fantastic suicide note. But fear not, through the best of times, and through the worst of times, I will remain.

This is a pure, unadulterated look at my thought process. I am happy now, but I know I will slip back into these feelings soon enough, so for now, let me enjoy my material possessions, like a dirty, capitalist pig. 🙂

 

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