staving

Hey buddy- it's me, your old pal Depression.

You knew I was coming, right? I called ahead.

When you were feeling great, a few weeks ago, you knew for a fact that I was on my way. Because you can never have a moment of happiness and energy without thinking of me. And when it's entire days or weeks where you start to think that things are finally starting to get better, well...that's as good as me sending you a registered letter, telling you that I'm en route.

But you know all this, right? I mean, something can only happen so many times before you see a pattern. Sure, the first few times were pretty shocking...but how long ago were they? Twenty years? That's more than enough time to get used to me, and how I work.

I figure I have three points in my favor:

1. I'm just as smart as you. Sometimes, I can even use your brain more effectively than you can.

2. I have a single, clearly defined agenda. You have all sorts of things to think about, I only have one: despair. And my existence revolves around making you realize that all other things eventually come to that.

3. I can't lose. A truce is the best you can hope for...you will never be "cured". I don't even care if you accept this, or cling to false hope- I can work well with either approach.

Okay, I understand that you never really get used to me. After all, it's only when I'm farthest away that you get to think clearly and objectively about our relationship. In times like those, it's so tempting to think that you've beat me, or that you can now handle my little visits. Once I start to get closer, you really can't think very well at all...and it's always worse than you remembered -- or at least, it's only when I'm there that you remember how really bad it always was.

Talking like this is good, right? We get to let each other know how we really feel, get things out in the open.

Me, I'm a simple guy at heart. All I really want is for you to feel bad. Sure, I have a million ways that I can do that (including some subtle, insidious, and ingenious ways), but my goals themselves are pure and uncomplicated: I want you to kill yourself, or at least live in misery as long as possible.

I must say, you've got a decent handle on the 'killing yourself' thing (probably from sheer practice), so you may not let me win that easily. Not anytime soon, anyway. Maybe when you're older, once you've lost even more of those sparse, silly reasons to stick around. It's okay, I can wait forever...longer than you, anyway.

That doesn't mean that I can't still dangle suicide over your head at every opportunity. Even if you don't end up doing it, it's still a great way to keep you desperate and hopeless. I chuckle every time you say to yourself "hey, this has been a good week -- I didn't seriously think about killing myself more than once or twice!". It's touching, really; it shows how close we've become, when you think so much about me even when I'm far away.

I gotta hand it to you, you've picked up on a lot of my tricks over the years. You threw me for a curve when you managed to stick around despite eschewing professional therapy or pharmaceutical assistance. I must admit, I misjudged your resolve...but who can blame me? You always seemed like such a pathetic and weak little creature, and almost everything you did was a failure or a mistake.

So kudos and all, but don't get too big for your britches. I've studied the long-term outlook and read all the reports...and yes, I've grown and matured a little over the years, too. I've had to stay one step ahead of the competition.

I now know that a quick jackpot of self-destruction may be short-sighted. A lifetime of isolation and failure is so much more rewarding. That's why I let you be happy between my visits, and especially why I make you a little too happy and energetic right before I show up. Contrast is everything. You're just boring when you're sad all the time. No challenge. People can get used to anything -- and if you were always sad, you might barely even notice when I show up.

I know you so well. Right this moment, you're joking around- aware of the impending problem but still able to be thoughtful and creative. Maybe even a little more so than usual. Enjoy it while it lasts. You can only hold me off for so long. You'll wake up one morning and I'll be sitting on the couch, eating your food and watching your TV.

I'm coimng, no matter how many messages you send me saying "no, that's okay- I don't need you right now". You can count on me, unlike everything else in your life. As long as you still have one single neuron firing in your brain, I'll be there to fuck with it.

I'll always be there for you, big guy.