I FEEL BAD AND I WANNA GET DRUNK AND LOOK AT THE SEA BUT IM SUPPOSED TO REVISE FOR MY HUMILIATING FAILURE AS A STUDENT LMFAO
My roommate bought a pack of 24 rolls of toilet paper yesterday, in addition to the half dozen we already had, and stored all of them in the bathroom. And just let me tell you, there’s something incredibly calming and reassuring about looking next to you while you’re on the toilet and seeing 30 rolls of toilet paper sitting there. You get a feeling like, no matter how bad shit gets in there, you’re always going to make it out okay in the end.
today on teams defense fort: i wish i’d gotten a screenshot when we were all on the same team, but before we moved me and all four shrek-themed players were on a team, and they were all playing heavy and we fucking decimated the other team and i sung all star on mic whenever we captured a point
anyway theyre all my friends now and im worried i’ve joined some kind of shrek cult
Depression is hard to understand, because it is not a consistent state. Depression is rather like a virus, but like a virus, it has its manageable days and its acute, life-threatening flare-ups. You can be in a depression and still laugh at a friend’s joke or have a good night at dinner or manage low-level functioning. You grocery shop and stop to pet a puppy on the corner, talk to friends in a café, maybe write something you don’t hate. When this happens, you might examine your day for clues like reading tea leaves in a cup: Was it the egg for breakfast that made the difference? The three-mile run? You think, well, maybe this thing has moved on now. And you make no sudden moves for fear of attracting its abusive attention again.
But other times…
Other times, it’s as if a hole is opening inside you, wider and wider, pressing against your lungs, pushing your internal organs into unnatural places, and you cannot draw a true breath. You are breaking inside, slowly, and everything that keeps you tethered to your life, all of your normal responses, is being sucked through the hole like an airlock emptying into space. These are the times Holly Golightly called the Mean Reds.
I call it White Knuckling it.
"But the stigma of depression is that it comes with the sense that you shouldn’t have it to begin with. That it is self-indulgence or emotional incompetence rather than actual illness."
“When it’s White Knuckle Time, you will have to remind yourself to stand in the middle of the subway platform, well away from the edge.”
“There is an undertow to depression. It doesn’t take you all at once. It leaves you with some false sense that you are coping. That you are in control. That you have the shore still well in sight, until, at some point, you raise your head to find yourself all alone, battered by rough seas with absolutely no idea which way you should swim.”
Basically yes, but after few years you learn to wait for the inevitable downfall and the good periods between are spent like last days before the apocalypse, because you don’t know when you will feel good again or feel anything at all, for that matter.