Like the title says, I got ambushed by my depression recently. The worst time for it to hit is when I'm all alone, because then I can't distract myself from it, it just festers like a gangrenous wound. Ignoring it only works for so long, it's more potent than other emotions when it comes to bottling them. I'm aware bottling emotions is not healthy, at this point it's too late for this old dog to learn any new tricks.
I didn't really have anything to be depressed about. Nothing out of the ordinary, that is, weight and appearance will constantly drag me down, but it's easier to pull that weight behind you when you've been doing it for so long. For some odd reason, thinking about relationships caused me to tank. It's nothing new either, I'm terrible at trying to start them, romantic or for buddies, which I believe is referred to as platonic. I've got avoidant personality disorder, and I didn't spend my youth socializing, so I miss a lot of social ques and I'm not good at acting on the ones I do pick up.
Hell, I'm not even sure why I'm typing it, for people to see. I usually just type it up and delete it when I feel better. I call the whole process bloodletting, because I see the anxiety and depression as bad blood that gets excised when I put it on paper. No, I don't bleed myself by cutting, that shit never worked anyway.
Back to the cause of my tanking, relationships, lately I've just given up on them, resigned my to the life of an herbivore man, a cool bachelor uncle for my siblings kids. So seeing happy ones just plucks at my heart strings. It's one thing for your brain to say you don't need a relationship, it's another for the bleeding romantic that lives in your heart to accept it. I look like a glowering brute when I'm in work mode, but somehow the soul of a poet exists in me. Humans are strange beings that way.
I'm gonna lay in bed and listen to tunes, try and excise a little of the depression, maybe it'll be gone after I sleep, maybe not. Until I write again (whenever that may be) I bid you a good night.
