1017

29th March 2014. Saturday.

I'm not saying the after-effects are devastating to my life because well, plenty of people get diagnosed with clinical depression all the time. But you know, that's THEM. I'm barely 20 (Okay fine, 21. Whatever), I'm supposed to have all this energy and time devoted to making my life matter but no, there I was pouring out all my abandonment issues and being told my scars will probably remain for the rest of my life. There I was being prescribed anti-depressants to help me function normally on a daily basis.

Ugh.

I can't tell you how many times this week I'd been doing something only to have my thoughts invaded by "Dude, you have a mental disorder." and I know, I know it's not supposed to be a big deal and that I'm not damaged or beyond fixing. I'm alive and that counts for so much more.

But I can't help but to ask "WHY ME. WHY NOW?" 

 Depression is such a bitch with bad timing, I can tell you that. Instead of rolling its arse around when I'm say, 70 and almost dead, it comes around when I'm in my tertiary level of education. DEAR GOD.

Also, to anyone asking "Why I'm depressed": I don't fucking know. I don't particularly have a reason to be and yet I am. Maybe it's a biological thing.

Reading this post back, I can't help but to notice the disparity between how I seem writing this post and how I actually feel.

Also, anti-depressants are ridiculously expensive, guys.