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The Man with 1000 Masks

The Struggles of Not Being a Buzz-kill

By Sloan KetteringPublished 6 years ago 3 min read
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What's the point? That is a question I find myself asking myself often. Why should I get out of bed when all I really want to do is drown in the covers of safety? Safety from the outside world the people in it, the people I'm supposed to care about. Safety from the constant fears of being labelled a failure for the entirety of my life, from never accomplishing anything. Safety from another day wasted sitting in my room doing nothing because I don't have the energy or motivation to go out and make something of myself. Awaiting the inevitable text or call to go out and see my friends or loved ones, knowing I'll have to go in my closet and grab a few masks so they never have to know and worry about what is really going on. Being too afraid of social rejection to tell anyone how serious this is in order to get proper help. Everyday pretending to smile and laugh, pretending to care about the new social trends that we're supposed to care about. Realizing how screwed I am when I don't even care who's supposed to be leading our nation. Because who can really lead us? No one has any answers here, we're all just guessing and doing our best to bullshit to the top of the food chain. You sprint through your lives like cheetah chasing a gazelle, while I relate more to the tortoise in a constant state of impending danger. If we must fear the indifference of good men above all else, then I am this worlds greatest threat with my indifference.

How can I be expected to pursue dreams when my dreams consist of darkness and disillusionment? How does anyone do it when I'm crippled by my own brain every second of every day? I often times ask myself, "Why can't I just be like everyone else? Why do I have to have these problems when I see everyone around me trying and succeeding? I can't even muster up the strength to try." Even as I sit here typing this there is a solid chance that I will just delete everything, because to see my words written in front of me summons images of laziness and stupidity staring directly back at me. I cannot help how I feel, I cannot explain how deeply this is ingrained in my core. I cannot tell anyone exactly how bad this is because I myself don't even know, all I can say is that at the end of the day no matter what I did I accomplished nothing. I will forever stand in the shadow of disappointment and casually drift through this life as if I wasn't even here.

Some people are afraid depression leads to suicide, I disagree. Depression leads to the realization that life is meaningless and we're all just fools standing on a sphere flying through infinity. Although these thoughts impact me deeply, I could never give up like that. That's beyond the comprehension of me, I'd rather go through my whole life depressed and malcontent than turn the lights out forever. I don't believe in anything, this is our one shot on this earth and I'm wasting it, I will never throw it all away.

Even though I may sound hopeless, I do believe that eventually I will assume my position as a functional member of society. At some point I will look back at how impossibly silly this whole endeavor has been and consider myself a melodramatic early 20s kid. I will eventually concede my harsh and unforgiving thoughts of meaninglessness and replace them with hope and love... But until then I continue down this bleak and abysmal road we call life.Who cares anyways, no one will read this.

depression
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About the Creator

Sloan Kettering

I come from a different school of thought, I desire nothing but the air on my face and earth beneath my feet.

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