A Working Monologue:
Conversations That Are Unlikely, Pt. 1-Rob
I know, I know. You don’t like cliches. They’re–excuse me–old hat, but my phrasing there isn’t cliche. It’s as specific as anyone could hope to get to something as vague as this illness is.
I agree; the phrase is overused. “It sucks,” is practically an adjective. However, this sucks.
We all have a baseline. I didn’t realize this until mine was sucked away from me. For some, the sucking away of things happens slowly like bathwater down an unplugged drain. Others, myself included, experience the sucking quickly like greedy lips around a milkshake straw.
Before the large lips sealed themselves over my creamy sweet concoction, I looked forward to learning and reading and discussing ideas like those we would be looking into during that semester. Your reading list made me sigh and think, “oh, finally, someone is giving me Foucault!” I enjoyed the ideas of symmetry and asymmetry and toyed with them by way of fashion. When the lips did finally seal, it sucked away my curiosity.
And now it continues to suck, the greedy bastard.
It sucks away my energy. “Tired is now my personality,” really isn’t a joke so much anymore as a truth.
It sucks away my passion–Did you know that since I graduated I’ve only read one book cover to cover? I’ve only written a handful of pieces and only one or two I’m proud of?
It sucks away my appetite. You’ll find I either never eat or I overeat and, moreover, neither extreme satiates my hunger or thirst or nutritional needs.
It sucks away my happy. I’m nearly certain I haven’t laughed till I cried since middle school. My own genuine smiles are forgotten. I don’t even remember how they look.
It sucks away my confidence. The old “name three things you like about yourself” doesn’t work. I can’t even name one. Ditto for listing my strengths.
It sucks. It just sucks and sucks and sucks away everything you ever worked for until all that’s left is what you came with. Then it slowly sucks that away, so yes, depression sucks.
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