just miserable

i swear i’m not as self deprecating as i seem. i’m simply going through a rough patch (like every week or two). as a great individual (me) says, “you don’t have to prove anything to me.” 

i tend to set the mood for my week hours before hand. whenever i feel an inkling of dissatisfaction, it eventually morphs itself into a full blown depressive episode that lasts an entire week. i sit in my own sadness with no attempt to resolve anything. it’s the same way that pigs relish in fresh wet mud. they love mud—and i certainly love my misery. thought this sadness is a double edged sword. i’ve always believed that my misfortunes are the only thing that really make me who i am. my anger, resentment, envy, and just overall misfortune define who i am. what would i be without them? normal doesn’t cut it.  when everything feels like a big deal to you, there’s no way you can detach yourself from that. i speak about it like it’s so positive, when i know that it’s far from it. it’s an endless, helpless, and bottomless cycle i’ll never crawl myself out. my medication doesn’t really help much. i’m stuck and a deep cave and all i’ve been thrown is an untied rope and a dull pickax.