Probably Just a Rant

Sometime I have a hard time putting a creative twist on a simple concept. If I’m being honest it’s incredibly frustrating that I feel the need to string together a set of rhyme schemes, metaphors, and elevated diction just to let you all know that depression sucks. Kinda stupid huh? That instead of just being able to say that depression changes things from enjoyable to compulsory, I compare depression to a hole that I can’t escape from unless I’ve given it everything I love.

Honestly, I don’t know when I felt the need to make every facet of my life poetic. Could be when a girl looked me in the eyes and told me she loved broken boys, because of how they described life. That their pain let them spin words in a way that swept her into the world of her favorite book. Now, I’m gonna go off on a tangent, which you generally aren’t supposed to do in writing, but screw that girl. The hardships of the depressed are not there for you to romanticize. Life isn’t a movie in which hollow representations of people are present simply for you to fall in love with. In life those “broken boys” don’t disappear as soon as screen fades to black, but rather, stay awake in that darkness pleading for someone to notice them.

If you all couldn’t tell by now, I’m pissed off at the world. While saying that I’m starting to question if this all comes across as whiny, and whether or not I really care if it does? Without a stylistic approach does writing about problems in life just amount to a list of complaints? I suppose it could, but I’m not particularly in the mood to worry about what anyone else thinks about this, so this one is going to stay like this. This is me being selfish, uncompromising, irrational, and for once not feeling guilty about it.

While I’m on the subject of guilt why must I show people an entire blog just to make them care. In truth I’m not sure if caring is the right word. Someone who really cares doesn’t need an invitation to ask if someone is okay. Ya, I know I seem bitter, but part of me feels like I deserve to be. I don’t know, I’m sure I’ll go back to my abstract thoughts of life, but for now I’m feeling blunt. Fuck depression.