So the other day, I was discussing something with this completely stranger girl and the bizarre line of topics somewhat got extended towards the central theme of our arguments, depression. Depression is something which I am not at all comfortable in talking about but extremely comfortable in experiencing. I wasn’t a fan of depression until I started realising how sucky and cocky the world is, and we are nothing but hunters. A bit sophisticated version of hunters though. We hunt for careers, we hunt for love, we hunt for jobs, and sometimes, not always, we hunt just because that’s what we know. And when we get tired of hunting, we get depressed. When we have got no energy to take the shit the world is throwing at us, we name it “depression”. I never accepted the fact that I was depressed until I met my psych. All the symptoms that a “depressed” person has were visible in me. Quite vividly. I am using quotations while writing depression because deep down I still hate this word. I just think of it as a bad euphemism for the condition in which you can’t take more fuck ups. At a point of time, I was also going through the same phase. In fact, I was on medication for a year. Then I stopped taking the meds. Because I knew that’s not gonna help. Since you can’t have a medicine to fall out of love, you can’t have a medicine to fall out of depression. It’s that simple. Unless you, yourself, aren’t willing to get up and knock the fuck out of this world, no medicine can ever help you. I didn’t read it in any book, it was just a realisation. I started going out. I started playing. I started talking. And boom. I was back on my feet, again. It’s not that hard. And why are we (people of my age group, 20-26) getting depressed? Because a girl left us? Or because we couldn’t clear an exam? Or because we don’t have a job? If you don’t have a job, how would sitting back and crying about it gonna help? Anyway, there are psychs to preach about it, so if you think you are in depression, go to a psych, start your medication, take them until you realise it’s a fucking trap and then come here and read this blog post again and blame your fucking mind for not taking this post seriously before. And get depressed again (kidding).
Till today, I believe I despised all these 16yo kids who say they are depressed because somebody broke their heart. The same heart, which is just motherfucking 16years old and doesn’t know how to erect a penis properly, is broken. But now that I think about it, I was like them for one whole year. I’m glad I talked to this girl and I’m glad I shared my experiences. I don’t know if it helped her or not, but it feels good to know that your advice might be handy for someone who is going through the same rough patch. If you aren’t happy, don’t worry, no one is. Just chill the fuck out and look forward to future because that’s the only way to create possibilities. Explore yourself and find yourself a hobby. Even walking would do. Just go out and walk around and sit on that park’s bench and watch the oldies laughing and think how fucking scared they are of dying. I bet that would make you chuckle. And for god’s sake, stop reading Paulo Coelho or Rhonda Bryne. The only thing which can make your life shittier is a bucket full of unrealistic optimism. Do you really think Rhonda Bryne knew that her book, however shit it may be, would sell a million copies because the Universe was telling her? Nope. She wrote it. Regardless of how shit the book turned out to be, she did get what she wanted because she worked hard for it. So instead of finding out what the Universe is telling you, cover your ears and do something and prove your worth to yourself. Listening is overrated, anyway.
So this girl has just texted me to write a new blog post because she loved the previous one. I bet she won’t love this one. *passes the joint*