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Thursday, 26 September 2013

Déprime- 26/9/2013



A very small incident. A conversation that should not have taken place. A brief moment. And I sank into depression again. 
Which is easy. I may be in good mood for a while, carefree and happy-go-lucky and cheerful and oblivious and frivolous for a while, and everything is bearable, everything is fine, but as soon as such a small incident takes place and reminds me of something I have always avoided and whose existence I have always denied, all the bad feelings come back and everything else falls apart and I feel like I can't bear it any longer, and it must take a very long while for me to come back to my frivolous mood. And that's the horrible part. That I look at everything with different eyes, through different lens, and find all intolerable and cruel. That I distrust everyone and have faith in nothing. That I find my existence meaningless. 
It's strange, though, certain things ignored in the frivolous times suddenly pop out and become visible and stare at me in the face, everything suddenly accumulates and destroys my hope. 
I'm aware, some or most people may see these lines and feel the way they feel when reading "The bell jar". Sylvia Plath. Spoilt, silly, unsympathetic. A person who knows no poverty and no real misery, who has no sense of discipline and self-improvement, who has no self-control and self-restraint, who submits blindingly to sensibilities instead of sense, who makes no effort to change the situation nor to change the attitude, who exaggerates negative things and suffers for it, who sinks in so-called misery and subconsciously enjoys being miserable, who knows what the problems are and yet does nothing to remove them. 
But if everybody could fight depression, if that were simple and easy, nobody on earth would be depressed any more. Nobody would fall into depression in the 1st place even.

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