That's another failure.
The so-called "miracle drug" ain't working no more. Just like that, it has stopped.
I am filled with anger and regret, hatred and sadness, having strong urges to strangle a certain person, who somehow still believes he's my friend.
I look at the mirror and the desire to kick my own ass to a bloody pulp strikes again.
Sorry mom.
Sorry doc.
Sorry.
It's just not working no more. I hate everything and everyone around me, been having to struggle with the urge of throwing this fucking noisy dot-matrix printer outta window, into traffic.
Seems to me that Parnate gave me a rush...that has worn off. My body must have gotten used to it, just like any chemical it consumes on a regular basis.
Soooo...I see two alternatives, or they increase the dose....or I jump out of the roof.
Because it's fucking unbeareable to be like this, again. I'd never thought it would come back.
But here it is. My old friend. My unseparable firend. My lifetime pal.
Depression.
"I will never leave your side, my darling..."
Feels a bit like this:
"God's your prankster, my boy.
Think of it. He gives man instincts. He gives you this extraordinary gift
and then, I swear to you -- for his own amusement -- his own private, cosmic
gag reel -- he sets the rules in opposition. It's the goof of all time.
Look but don't touch. Touch but don't taste. Taste but don't swallow. And
while you're jumping from one foot the other he's laughing his sick fucking
ass off! He's a tight-ass. He's a sadist. He's an absentee landlord!
(incredulous) Worship that? Never."
This passage - some of you will recognize it from the film, "Devil's Advocate" pretty much
sums what's depression feels like. You know you are able to do, but nonetheless, you just
can't act. You can't get happy. You can't get positive feelings.
You can't get out of bed.
And you can't....you just can't.....get it out of your head.
Maybe with a fucking bullet, like so many do.
So there you go. Another failure for my collection of fuckups.
Cheers.
