Part Seven

Hello again chaps, sorry it's been a while. Busy with work and the like, hopefully I'll get back to posting every five days or so rather than the current eight. Anyway, I look forward to reading your comments (and apologising to those who feel this blog is too miserable, although if you read a few posts back you'll see that it's not all doom and gloom. More positivity to come, I promise!) and catching up on the blogs I haven't checked in on recently.

Incidentally, I love the Zapata quote towards the end of this section, it's a recurring theme in my life for both good and bad reasons. I'd love to hear your thoughts on it and what it might mean to you.

As always, try to bear in mind that this wasn't intended to be split into sections, it's one document that I've decided to milk for content during my busy hours.
-------
Part Seven
-------
Even without Depression, if all I felt was a slight melancholy and disregard for life, how is that any less valid? A problem is subjective; I would never attempt to trivialize your problem, no matter how feeble it might seem to me. I understand that a small thing to one man is a big one to another. One man’s rubbish is another’s treasure, and so one man’s unnoticed issues are another’s dominant feature.
If someone as shallow and self-absorbed as me can realise that, why can’t everyone else?

I hate me, I hate you, and I genuinely, in every sense of the word, hate the world.

I hate what I’ve done to me and what I’ve become. I was born a pleasant young gentleman and I’ve become a selfish egotistical cynic.
I hate you, for making me feel like I’ve done this to myself deliberately and for implying it’s common, reversible and exaggerated. No one can suggest I’m anything but honest, even in my deceits.
I hate the world for supplying constant ammunition for cynicism. Everywhere I look there’s something obscene and worthy of my deepest hatred.

Mexican revolutionary Emiliano Zapata said, “It is better to die upon your feet than to live upon your knees.”
Maybe it’s an extreme view founded in my ignorance and stubbornness, but I feel like I’ve been asked to live on my knees. I see things in the news that make me ashamed to be human, and yet I’m told I should contribute to society. I see men who are imprisoned against their will for their entire lives for breaking laws written and enforced by the same people that tell me I live in a free country.

Letter

I don't hate you, but I am angry. I'm not angry at you, I'm angry at just about everything.
Until the other night I'd only shown part of myself to you, it's still me, but it's edited.

I'm sorry, because I know I gave you little choice in anything, I know I'm difficult to speak to when I'm like that.
I'm so tired of people claiming to understand and appreciate how it feels. Whether they're correct or not, it's just not what I need to hear.
I KNOW I need to just... man up sometimes, but if I'm not doing so already then why would being told it change that? That's my view at the time of feeling those things I mean, not necessarily my view when I'm myself.

I'd had a lot to drink that evening and I'd taken sleeping pills, my pills are harsh and I tend to sleeptalk for the last 10 minutes or so before crashing completely. I wasn't sleeptalking to you, but I was certainly beyond the point of caring about you, and I stopped caring about myself a long time ago.

I hate to say this, because I DO understand that everyone has their own problems and hardships, but please don't underestimate how hard parts of my life have been.

Some thing I couldn't express to you at the time is my frustration at the phrase "everyone has shit to deal with." I still can't fully explain it, perhaps because my logic is basically flawed, I don't know, but here's my best shot:
When I'm depressed I don't care about ANYONE. I'm angry at the world for being such a hate-filled and cynical place, a place where people don't care. I know this is hypocritical, but I feel it anyway. Hearing that everyone else is unhappy on some level too doesn't cheer me up, it doesn't make me feel the world is a better place and it doesn't make me worry about them. It makes me angrier, angrier that so many people accept unhappiness like it's to be expected and that nobody cares.

This anger is what drives me in my work. I find it easy to blackmail people and hurt people and damage lives, because I can choose to stop caring when I feel like it. It's just easier to do that than have to feel the emotions related to causing pain. 

Blah blah blah, I suppose.

I'm just sorry, and I hope you can forgive me. I miss your sexy face and smartarse comments, genuinely. 

Chris.