Sometimes I think people in my life don't realize how much of a corruptive force depression is.
It's not a thing that comes and goes, and it's not a disease with a cure. it's an amorphous cloud of apathy and shame, anxiety and existential dread.
It's the Lovecraftian entity that one cannot simply envision or witness, but has to inevitably suffer the consequences of its existence.
This shapeless being follows me around, and then makes sure that I stay still wherever I am so that following me and paralyzing me becomes even easier for it.
This is how I came to be in the situation I'm in and have been in for the past ten years.
Going outside is out of the question most of the time. And what would I do outside, anyway?
I thought it would be a positive thing to vent some more, but I feel like it's just overwhelming me. Fleshing out all of the toxicity I have inside me in written form.
it's like I'm talking to a person, right? And at some point I feel like I'm supposed to pause, to cease. Not to continue going on ranting or exposing myself emotionally like that.
it's like... I don't think that people appreciate that. I feel like they mostly judge, even when they say they don't.
The past few days have been intense. What with this new friend flying around my apartment and all.
I don't know that we've bonded much, me and the Woobat. Maybe it did to me, but I have no way of telling, I've never interacted with Pokemon on that level before.
I'm still trying to figure out whether I should keep it outside of the ball most of the day, or perhaps to make a schedule? Does it matter?
It does feel more lively in here, vital. And is vitality not the opposite of depression?
Smell You later, Fred.