Styrofoam Depression Manifesto (Initial Draft)

I found myself writing these thoughts a few hours ago…I thought I would share. Word for word rambling thoughts from my journal…And, no it doesn’t HAVE to make sense, the fact that I wrote anything at all surprised the hell out of me.

I am beating myself up again- beat me senseless.
Everything about me,
The me who is frustrated that the cash I borrowed was not in the mail today.
I hate.

I hate myself to the point of non-existence.
Not because of pain, but more the lack thereof.
The senseless nothingness I am engulfed in, the indifference I am stuck in…
I don’t care.

And this is not me.
And I don’t care.
I hate this person, this me.
And I don’t care.

Imagine a large piece of Styrofoam.
That is what I feel like when the depression sets in.
A large piece of Styrofoam, motionless taking up space.
A buffer used to protect important things…
Yet completely disposable.
Throwawayable.

Taking up space with a purpose for others, but none in itself.
Easily broken, too often shattered and tossed aside.
No purpose, no feeling… just taking up space.

A fate worse than pain…nothing.


Whatcha talkin' bout Willis?