How do you see your life? Be honest, not to me, but to yourself. Close your eyes, take a deep breath and just think. These thoughts are something you never have to share, and might alter your viewpoint on the world slightly. But, maybe not. I’m just curious how we’ve evolved to a world of depression and suicide. For anyone reading this, they have something. Access to a computer, a smart-phone or a tablet what have you. The ability to read English and thus more-than likely write it. For some this is a blessing, a privilege that a majority of the world can’t say they have. My question is, do you see that as a good thing or a bad thing? Do you thrive in the idea that you appreciate what you have, and you hope to use it to better yourself or the world? Or, is it the thing that causes you more pain? Would life be better if we were neanderthals again, no ability to speak or understand the fact that “I’m not good enough.” or “They’re better than me.” Survival was what proved that someone was worth more than others. So why now, in a world where we’re more connected and have access to millions of people across the world do we feel so alone?
Aside from that, one thing I can’t behind is the whole idea that hating everything is just depression. The first experience I had playing a video game, it was a drug. The experience clouding my judgement and views on reality. The first time I made a goal in basketball, or the first time I got an A. It’s like the stimulus dried out, and my brain doesn’t care for the overused feelings anymore. It’s like my body just purely doesn’t want to be happy, and I feel like the chemical imbalance is extremely abnormal. But, is it? With how the world looks now, there are so many suicides and depression is growing. What happened along the evolutionary line to cause us , the most advanced beings in the animal kingdom, to become our greatest weakness? My hatred for everything started small, blooming from the idea that my mom instilled in me. “You don’t HATE anything, you only DISLIKE things.” Pounded into me from a young age, it’s still imprinted on my skull.
I didn’t hate until I felt defeat. I didn’t hate until I was bullied. I didn’t hate until I wasn’t good enough. But with each passing time I admitted it once more, I hate that. It spiraled out of control to a point where I can’t say I even like anything. I hate myself and how I look. The habits I’ve created and choices I’ve made. Did I do this to myself? I feel as though I let this word control me now, like a virus. It’s spread beyond control and honestly beyond cure. Life is miserable except for laughter and for hope. Once you’ve run both of those dry, whats left but the suffering? I feel like now that I’m there, with no hope for myself or the dreams that died long ago that I am here to create laughter. For anyone that’ll listen, and anyone that needs it. What do you do when you feel your only purpose is to help other people not feel the suffering? Do hopes and dreams ever re-build themselves? I’m not so sure, and honestly I can’t be hopeful. On a last note, I’d say memories might be something that keeps us stable. So dwelling on the good times might be a saving grace.