Now Playing: Breaking Down by Florence + The Machine
Depression is a little like cancer. You never really get over it; it just goes into remission. For some, it comes back over and over, like waves of a never-ending siege. For others, it just lurks unobtrusively in the background.
When you're depressed you genuinely can't feel happy. Nothing and no-one can make you feel whole and complete and content. Every day is a constant charade, a routine where you have to tell everyone that you're okay, you're getting over it, when you're not. When that goes away for real, suddenly the little things can make you ecstatic. It was exhilarating, after so long without a genuine smile, to feel so wonderfully, blissfully happy.
It's been two or three years since I was really, truly depressed, and I've been able to keep it under control, mostly. But I've never felt the same. When I have bad days now I have really, really bad days. When I'm happy I am euphoric. I feel like my emotions are heightened; I laugh easily and I cry easily. The littlest things can set me off into a downward spiral and I have to constantly check myself, force myself to look at the big picture.
I can't explain the euphoria. I don't do anything halfway,
anymore. I don't know how to be just mildly happy. You cannot be
moderately dead, or moderately in love, or moderately free; and I can't
be moderately happy. I don't know how other people do it.
The thing that hurt the most is that when I was depressed, and now when I have a bad day, people accused me of being ungrateful. Can't they see that depression is irrational and unreasonable and uncontrollable, and that if I had it my way I would spend my life basking in the glory of all my gifts and privileges and joys in life. But sometimes I just can't, I can't, I can't, and nobody gets that; nobody can see past their own stupid selfishness and realize that it's not that I don't care, but sometimes I simply can't care.
When I was little, and when I was going through rough patches, I wasn't afraid to let people know how I felt. I would pick fights over anything and everything that didn't suit me; I would cry over everything that didn't go my way. I don't know whether it's maturity or insecurity, but I can't do that anymore. I am suddenly so afraid that I get upset over things that are so petty that people will turn away. I don't know what is and isn't justifiable anymore.
I used to be the last person to let bygones be bygones. I used to carry grudges for years and years. And now what has happened? One smile and everything's okay. But everything's not.
I feel like there's a big emotional void. I am so frustrated at people who seem to have no reaction to anything, or anyone; they just pass through life in a state of apathy and indifference and it drives me insane. How can someone not be passionate about anything or anyone; how can they not care about anything? Every action has an equal and opposite reaction, right? Not freaking true. People don't feel anything anymore, and I feel like a freak for still getting angry, for still falling in love, when all these things seem to be out of fashion now. People, relationships, have no constancy anymore, no reliability or accountability. If I do something, or say something, I have no idea how people will react. I spend all my time thinking over what I've done and what I could have done better.
I have never had so much yet needed so much more. Every thrill is matched by something crushing and it's driving me insane. I want all this and heaven, too.