Over a year unchained by depression. I never thought I would utter those words. Sometimes it feels silly, a little stupid and pathetic to write, to talk to myself. Like I need this therapy that most people don’t. I feel ridiculous mumbling to myself of the shit that happens to me. I feel pathetic for being weak. I just feel like a weak person in general, in every sense of the word. I’m so sick of having wavering confidence, of loving myself some days and hating myself others. I envy those who are able to sustain the discipline needed for optimism. I mean sometimes I do have that. But it’s so fleeting. One day I’ll be strong enough to tell the jerk that treated me badly that I don’t want to talk to him anymore, and in my heart I’ll believe I deserve better. But the next day comes around and it’s like a new person has taken over my mindset. I become needy and self-loathing and desperate. I worry that I’ll never find someone else who will give me the same amount of affection, who will make me laugh in the same way, or hold me the same way, or express themselves so candidly. And that fear never subsides. The animal in me fears losing something that will make me happy and make my children happy. I do not know how to discipline my emotions.



I am not a god. I am not all-capable. I cannot emit continuous love to people, especially when I don’t even love myself. What is right? Do I even serve any purpose here? Am I aiding the situation? If this was the right decision then why do I feel out of place, why do I wake up apathetically, with no desire to put effort forth in the day? NO desire to push myself, to learn, to help others. I want to escape this mediocrity with the same intensity as before.  When my mind wanders, it enters a world that is different from the one in front of me

This is life. This is what it is. Right here. My morals leave me dissatisfied. I thought that being there for another person, providing them with love, would be enough to fulfill me. But truth is, I can‘t provide that love if I’m not happy. I can’t feel the happiness of providing love if I can’t even love my own life. I can’t seem to fill myself up with just acts of kindness for others. Why is this not enough for me? Why does my selfishness prevail?


“In a mind that is disciplined and purified there is no taint  of corruption, no unclean spot nor festering sore. Such a man’s life fate can never snatch away unfulfilled, as it were an actor walking off in mid-performance before the play is finished. There is nothing of the lackey in him, yet nothing of the coxcomb; he neither leans on others nor holds aloof from them; and he remains answerable to no man, yet guiltless of all evasion”

Marcus Aurelius


Feb. 3, 2010 

There’s always something holding me back from acting how I want to act. I feel like an outcast on the inside, but I portray differently in front of other people. I barely ever say what’s on my mind. . . I don’t know if my friends could handle it. Or if they’d judge me. 

Should you pretend to be confident if you really don’t feel confident? I do that a lot. When I feel out of place or when I’m in uncomfortable situations. I pretend I’m confident. I pretend I’m having fun when I’m really not. I pretend I’m interested when I’m not. Is that bad? To fake happiness? Just so you don’t look petulant?

A Dependable Escape

Oct 7, 2012

I just want to go to bed

to numb my pain and stymie my worry

to relieve myself of regret for just one moment

even if it means escaping into an unrealistic serenity–

at least I’m away from feeling,

from a distress that anchors my soul

But once my eyes open, reality will rush in, saturating the dream world that I thought for a second was my own. Why are we so fearful of the future? Of what we cannot control? I want to pause, rewind, and tell myself : I have no reason to be doubtful of what is to come– I have found ways to deal with every disappointment. And I will continue to do so. I am afraid of facing a misfortune that I cannot cope with. Surely this will come. In the mean time, my paranoia is preventing me from appreciating the uniqueness of good feeling.

Fearing Death

Oct 28, 2012

Screw this absurdity that all of us are thrown into whether we realize it or not. Unfortunately for me, I have realized it. I really don’t want to forget this dream I had that allowed me to, for once, let my fear of death and of eternity envelope me without instilling panic. In my dream, despite being engulfed in another world that obfuscates reality, my fear is real. I know death is coming and I feel it nearing. Emotions flood. My animal instincts fear the cessation of power, of control– of an abating heart and of a final breathless sigh. Suddenly it is not death that I fear but what my death will bring onto others, onto my family.

This awareness severs a deeper , more horrifying wound; I am more scared of this than the termination of my consciousness.  The termination of my consciousness.  A state in which I have no memory of the past, no awareness of the present, no expectations of the future. No feeling, no thoughts.  My vision is slowly overtaken by a blinding light. Though my fear is malignant and inescapable, hope finds me. Acceptance finds me. I am extricated free and brought to peace. An understanding that within a few seconds I will feel nothing at all—a place where fear can never find me again, a dark corner of existence in which I will not  be aware that I have even lived. I will not be aware at all. Fear will not find me here.

Precluding Skepticism

May 4, 2011

It is truly remarkable the power of the mind. When we are rewarded with happiness we praise this God, and we hold him accountable for everything good in the world; and then when we are faced with  remorse and disappointment, still, we instinctively retreat to the same God that is responsible for our happiness. We assure ourselves: everything must happen for a reason. . . there is a reason for our pain. God escapes this blame– and we proceed through this cycle over and over again, conditioning our psyche to repeat, repeat, repeat, until we preclude all skepticism for flaw and do not question our reasoning for encouraging this system. After all, why would we?? Seems like a pretty good deal: Rationalization magnified—relieving us of any indecisiveness of why bad things happen, and restoring in us optimism every step of the way.

But the thing is, once I removed myself from this cycle I could see the apparent delusion that everyone else was experiencing. I’m not saying that it in fact was a delusion; but I could, from then on out, see the reality that God could be this delusion, and that there is little evidence, beyond the faith that distorts our pragmatic thought, that substantiates otherwise. There is one thing that I am doing that I hadn’t done before a year ago: I am seeing the world as it is. And yet I crave—I hunger—( whether God is real or not)  for my delusional state of mind.

Retraced Steps

Dec 28, 2009

I look at my life in its entirety and I am only disgusted with my choices and my circumstance. I just wish there was one answer. One complete and substantial answer to my problems—or merely a sign, a guide. But there is nothing… only a dead end, a disappointment, a longing that is ubiquitous no matter how many things go right for me. I am so terrified of what lies ahead. Defining decisions that I will be forced to make eventually and I am not prepared. I am nearly 17 and I reflect back on my life and cannot make out of it a conclusive meaning–a crucial characteristic that I have that will take me somewhere in life.  I am honest—at times brutally—and caring. I care about people and decisions that others do not. I see a person suffering and it somehow becomes my problem, my suffering. I look around as people scoff at a persons failure and I do not see the reasoning behind their vilification. Why would you want to ridicule a person who is already under disparagement? Perhaps this is my defining characteristic—compassion. I instinctively, and without hesitation, attempt to understand the complications others are experiencing ; it is second nature for me to put myself in others places and to act accordingly.

I am nearly 17 and yet I feel more lost than I have ever been. I look ahead, ahead to nothing. No dreams, or ambitions. Every time I chase after something I succeed at I end up surrendering to the possibility of failure. Every time. My life is an accumulation of paths covered in retraced steps. There are several paths, but each one leads to a single stop light