A letter to my friend, Alex, who is depressed and wrote in his own blog, "But I'm tired and I don't care about anything in my life anymore. Thanks to everyone that cares and wishes that I could feel better, but it really doesn't help much. I want to escape.":
Alex, allow me to remove my normally jovial-sardonic-goofy-emotionally-armored mask and be serious for a moment . . .
I won't bother making some "hang in there - you'll make it through" clich because I know it's not necessary. You WILL make it through to a happier emotional state, just as you will eventually fall back into this one, just as you'll inevitably rise back out of that one once more. That's the roller coaster track. In my experience, it's the track of the more brilliant, talented, interesting, deep, and otherwise worthwhile people in my life (that's in my limited life experience, but, taking a look at interesting/worthwhile people in history, I'm confident my theory holds strong).
Some people are not on this track. Some of them just have a charmed existence and float above it. But many, many others don't ride the roller coaster as a weak sort of side benefit of being as deep as a dinner plate and not particularly worthwhile.
So, squeeze whatever comfort you can from the fact that you are one of the more interesting, deep, worthwhile people of my experience. The problem is that we are creatures built on short-term memory. If we experience any emotion for any real length of time, we get tunnel vision and it really feels like this is all we've ever felt and all that we can possibly hope to feel. We forget the highs exist (they do, and they come as unexpectedly as they leaveand they are GOOD).
At that point, in the bottom of the roller coaster drop, at the deep end of tunnel vision, we float into a nasty place where even the pain becomes a deadened, numb, void and we ask ourselves questions like, "Man, wouldn't non-entity be better than this?" But, you see, the thing about voids is that when everything becomes dead and numb and weightless, there is no inertia. That means that any slight momentum tips the scales between bad and good - which brings us to my theory of "Oreo Cookies Are Better Than Non-Entity." When we're in the void, something as insignificantly good as an Oreo cookie is better than non-entity (and even more inevitable than depression, is the fact that Oreo cookies will be mass produced in greater varieties and flavors than ever).
I proved my theory, one night, when, by the light of a full moon, with a magic eight-ball and a pixie-stick wand, I summoned the poor souls of those who have gone to non-entity, with a necromantic ritual I read off a Bazooka Joe wrapper.
And the poor souls of non-entity said, "Yeah, Josh, an Oreo cookie is better than this."
And that's what I have to say on that, Alex. You're a cool cat (and I wouldn't bother telling someone that as a pointless bit of soothing BS) and I hope you hit a high in the near future.
Now, I'm going to put my mask back on . . .
Alex, allow me to remove my normally jovial-sardonic-goofy-emotionally-armored mask and be serious for a moment . . .
I won't bother making some "hang in there - you'll make it through" clich because I know it's not necessary. You WILL make it through to a happier emotional state, just as you will eventually fall back into this one, just as you'll inevitably rise back out of that one once more. That's the roller coaster track. In my experience, it's the track of the more brilliant, talented, interesting, deep, and otherwise worthwhile people in my life (that's in my limited life experience, but, taking a look at interesting/worthwhile people in history, I'm confident my theory holds strong).
Some people are not on this track. Some of them just have a charmed existence and float above it. But many, many others don't ride the roller coaster as a weak sort of side benefit of being as deep as a dinner plate and not particularly worthwhile.
So, squeeze whatever comfort you can from the fact that you are one of the more interesting, deep, worthwhile people of my experience. The problem is that we are creatures built on short-term memory. If we experience any emotion for any real length of time, we get tunnel vision and it really feels like this is all we've ever felt and all that we can possibly hope to feel. We forget the highs exist (they do, and they come as unexpectedly as they leaveand they are GOOD).
At that point, in the bottom of the roller coaster drop, at the deep end of tunnel vision, we float into a nasty place where even the pain becomes a deadened, numb, void and we ask ourselves questions like, "Man, wouldn't non-entity be better than this?" But, you see, the thing about voids is that when everything becomes dead and numb and weightless, there is no inertia. That means that any slight momentum tips the scales between bad and good - which brings us to my theory of "Oreo Cookies Are Better Than Non-Entity." When we're in the void, something as insignificantly good as an Oreo cookie is better than non-entity (and even more inevitable than depression, is the fact that Oreo cookies will be mass produced in greater varieties and flavors than ever).
I proved my theory, one night, when, by the light of a full moon, with a magic eight-ball and a pixie-stick wand, I summoned the poor souls of those who have gone to non-entity, with a necromantic ritual I read off a Bazooka Joe wrapper.
And the poor souls of non-entity said, "Yeah, Josh, an Oreo cookie is better than this."
And that's what I have to say on that, Alex. You're a cool cat (and I wouldn't bother telling someone that as a pointless bit of soothing BS) and I hope you hit a high in the near future.
Now, I'm going to put my mask back on . . .
I hope your friend feels better soon.