As I say I don’t want to kill myself, I just wouldn’t mind dying.”
-Stephen Fry

Depression is a right bastard innit? One day you can think rationally, the next you’re off swirling down the whirling plughole vortex of doom, into the Marianas Trench of Despair (fuck the slough of despond, really) and then priorities shift. Everything becomes very black and white indeed.

Do you want a coffee?
What do you think of this shirt?
Like it matters … life is fucked. FUCKED!

Speaking of coffee + depression click that, it made me go yesssssss!

It is a very, very antisocial state to be in. And the interminable catch 22 of company that you need, but don’t want … et fucking cetera, baby.

Chocolate tastes like shit.

The mind in bipolar disorder, whether manic or depressed, is never quiet. source

Even when you do all the right things, you cannot take one tiny sodding step out of the tench. If all your dreams came true during a serious depression, it wouldn’t change a thing. You would still want to die.

Sometimes I thought about killing myself. The idea of it circled my head, shining and lovely like a tinsel halo. How beautiful it would be if everything could just stop. If I could stop. If I didn’t have to feel like this. Yes, I thought about it and thought about it, but I was too exhausted to do anything about it. That should have been funny, right?
Alexis Hall, Glitterland

I wrote this a day or two ago. Right now I’m either happier or hypomanic. Right now I can’t tell the difference.

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