I think all this depression is due to lack of eating. I mean, it´s totally weird because i used to be able to just put on my headphones and put a catchy, upbeat song and everything would just go away. For three minutes at least. Quite frequently it feels like I’m drowning and music can only save you so far. I get by, you know, talking with my friends and smoking. Writing helps too. I’ve pretty much decided to blame my moodiness and general boredom and depression on my lack of regular feeding habits.
Because frankly, what else is there? Sure, there’s the constant reject that i subject myself to time after fucking time. I mean, I know i’m not particularly good looking, or particularly smart. My only talent is writing, but i think i do it quite well. It’s sometimes hard to get someone to read what you write, and so the only asset that I think I have is lost in translation. Nevertheless, i am constantly rejected, which makes a dent in everybody’s self-esteem, whether you like it or not. I can’t possibly blame everything on rejection, so I’m forced to blame something else.
My friends are constantly in a bunch of relationships they can choose to either continue or interrupt, and sometimes I dream of having that choice. I mean, i’m normally quite a nice guy. I make good jokes and i’m very easily to talk to, except for the fact that i’m very shy when it comes to people I don’t know. It’s selfish, I know, to think that a girl would ignore the exterior and the general shyness and find something in me she can fall in love about. It’ll probably never happen, but i am happy the way I am, and I really don’t think I would be happy any other way.
Whining, as wimpy as it is, helps me get by. I think there’s been like half a dozen times this week when I’ve been desperately close to fucking suicide, but then I write. Writing helps.