I’m A Great Actress But Hate To Act- Living With Chronic Depression, by Drem

Here I am. Some fucked up twenty-something. Living on prescription pills to get by. Sleeping odd hours. Never wanting to get up. Sleeping too much, or not at all. Still not wanting to get up. Or move.

And yet, when you see me, more often than not I’m the “life of the party” (WHAT THE FUCK?). But it makes sense the more I think about it. I drink my Starbucks with 3 shots of espresso and talk about sex and drugs and music and gaming to boys and girls who think they know me. I throw my legs over the laps of men and drink my pink vodka and play Cards Against Humanity or any other roleplaying pastime with such cringeworthy lewdness one can’t help but laugh and think I’m a confident woman.

I guess I’m a great actress.

But I hate to act.

I’m a morose overweight willow tree that only finds solace in the bitter taste of broken narcotic capsules and the smell of those orange translucent pill bottles, licking the powder inside to forget the memories of boys and days and other things that still cause me pain even though they happened so long ago.

I’m as dramatic as those emo kids you met in high school that wore a lot of eyeliner and cut their skin and licked their dripping blood to fit in. I was one of them and just grew up and now have real fucking problems. Or, worse problems. More problems. I still wear the eyeliner. And, yeah. Funny.

And they’re like, really?

I was trying to open up earlier because I was at a breaking point (still am) to these two kids about my depression (which is dangerously out of control) and they were quite surprised. Writing about it to them, I was surprised they didn’t know. I forget they only see the pretty side of me. The blue haired, pink lipped, big tits, talkative smiling facade I present. They didn’t know. I still don’t think they know. Or, at least understand. Understand the gravity of it. The pain that depression causes me.

Depression is fucking painful. Today was a day I felt lifeless. But then I felt pain. And I don’t think the dead feel pain, so it made no sense. I make no sense. Anyway, I was in bed. Feeling as lifeless as one could be while still alive, in illogical pain from my depression, and too weak to open my eyes. I needed help getting dressed to go to a doctor. I didn’t smile. Passionless. Low. Below. Below everyone else. Below the radiance of others. A faint shadow. Dead people still have shadows. That at least makes sense.

 

My anti-depressant clearly sucks.

 

xoxo

Drem

 

 

 


 

Featured image by Eyedoos.

 

 

 


10 thoughts on “I’m A Great Actress But Hate To Act- Living With Chronic Depression, by Drem

  1. I concur…maybe a change of antidepressant or a higher dose? Depression socks big time. Once it gets in it’s difficult to fight and all your energy goes into battle mode, which causes fatigue. Stay strong as by experience “it too shall pass”. Jx

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I’m going to a new Dr to get completely reevaluated. A lot of my problems stem from my MS. MS can cause an imbalance of chemicals/hormones in the brain. So, I need someone who understands that aspect of my issues. There’s no doubt I have PTSD, but a lot of this other shit happened over the past few years since my MS symptoms began before I was finally diagnosed.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Wow… I’m pretty sure you are a female version of me. I’m not on anti depressants but I probably should be. I’ve been chronically depressed for years: I tried talking to people but I’m so goddamned insecure that I couldn’t even be fully honest with the therapists that I myself decided to go to. As a result… since I “acted” to my therapists that I was ok… even after scheduling an appointment because I knew I wasn’t, they didn’t prescribe me anything. Even to my doctor/therapist I was still acting like I wasn’t depressed… despite the fact the the entire reason I scheduled an appointment with him was because I was depressed. Its heartbreaking to know people are going through the same or similar shit as me: I wouldn’t wish it on anyone, but at the same time, its somewhat reassuring that I’m not the only one dealing with this shit. You aren’t either. I think depressed people may actually be the capable of giving the most love. They are people who obviously need the most love, and I’m right there. We will get through this; I have no fucking idea how but we will barrel through.

    If nothing else, know that there is at least one guy out there with the exact same problems as you, possibly even worse. I doubt sometimes if I myself will get through all of this shit, but you have to just keep trying. I had an uncle who actually committed suicide. No matter what your opinion of yourself, that’s never the answer. Whether you realize it or not, I promise there is at least someone who loves you. Probably a whole lot of people. Suicide, in my opinion, is the most selfish thing anyone can ever do. The world is shit… don’t leave the people who care about you to deal with it alone.

    I’m sorry; this got a lot longer and possibly a little deeper than I initially intended, but I know exactly what you are saying. I wouldn’t mind talking with you more at all if you wanted to.

    Liked by 1 person

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