|The Facets of a White Wall
||[Jan. 2nd, 2009|10:09 pm]
Sometimes, I really feel like something, somewhere, is laughing its ass off at me.|
I've spent the evening in bed, too tired and depressed to do much else, and the only reason I dragged myself out is the beleif that two days into the new year is too early to break resolutions.
There are several different types of Americans. There are the type that belongs firmly in AA: "I can't do it alone; I need God's help." There are the type who say, "Fuck God. Just give me my drugs and I can do everything just fine." Then there is the third type: "I don't need no fucking help, whether it be God, instruction manual, or someone else's input. I got it."
I happen to be the third type.
This journal is the only place that I actually talk about being depressed, despite the fact that I know it is a problem. When something starts actively interfering with your life, it is a problem. Considering how long I spent in bed just staring at a plain white wall, I'm pretty sure it's a problem.
But I don't want anyone else to know about this. You see, with the third type, there is a definite pattern. When there is something beyond their control, it can only be defined as a weakness, something to avoid letting anyone else know no matter the cost.
I suppose I'll see how it goes.