For a couple of times in my post-teenage years, I’ve thought of talking to someone with a license who can help me with my growing mental problem. When I say ‘mental problem’, I am pertaining to my disposition which is mostly gloomy recently and for a span of time not too long ago. You see, I think I might be depressed. I have qualms about forming a definite conclusion because I ought to ask for a second opinion first from someone who actually had a hard time studying about conditions like this before admitting to myself and to whoever reads this that I am suffering from a possible mental breakdown.
Lately, when I look at the things and think about the thoughts that used to make me enthusiastic about life, I feel nothing. Nothing’s exciting me. There were a few that still give me little chuckles and cheerfulness now and then, but it just vanishes quickly like it didn’t transpire at all. It’s like I lost my ability to appreciate the good in anything. I can’t see myself doing anything in the future. I can’t create plans, my visions look dry and unimportant, and my dreams mean shit to me now. I wasn’t like this before.
I have problems ( which I won’t say here). Problems that can be detrimental to my own development, personality-wise and career-wise. Those problems are fixable. They can be resolved if I can will myself to do it. That’s the solution right there. But the thing is I don’t think I can command my inner self to act on it. I think I felt sad for a long time that my heart became comfortable with how things are going. I am miserable on purpose. I wanted to say I am making this up, but I’m not. This is as real as Angelina Jolie having a double mastectomy.
There’s a billboard on the train station that advertises a hotline for clinically depressed people. I have thought of writing down the number, but I am ashamed that other people might see me. Pathetic, I know. I am incapable of doing favors for myself. Anyway, I may not only be depressed, but also stupid. Not a good combo.
I want all of this to go away. I mean, even my mind gets bored with all this sad stuff. That’s why I am appealing to myself and to possible mental specialists who would probably read my blog to help me. ‘Coz there might even be a chance that I can make people happy. Even for a troubled whiner like me, that sounds good.