Descent

It's not real. It's just a sympton. It's not real. It will all be ok.

Depression is such a strange... condition? Illness? I don't even know what to call it. I didn't even realise I had it. I always thought that people were depressed when they were whining and complaining; "Woe is me!". The first I knew about it was that I couldn't sleep. No matter how tired I was, or how much I had done with my day, as soon as my head hit the pillow my mind became illuminated with questions, and scenarios, predicaments and challenges. That, I thought, was insomnia. Nothing to do with depression. But then I realised that there were times when I was, not quite suicidal, but hopeless. Life seemed pointless, nothing seemed worthwhile. I couldn't understand why existence didn't just let go of me and send me to the void of nothingness that I felt permeated my every cell anyway.
And I realised that there was no catalyst. I mean, you have a bad day at work, someone is nasty to you, about you. Then yes, you would feel down. Depressed! But usually when this fog of depression descended upon me, there was no reason for it. Like today, for instance. I had been for a walk along the Thames, it was a really nice day. I am not rich by any means, but I am not in mountains of debt. I don't have many friends, but I don't have many enemies either. And I am happy in my own company anyway. My mind was active with thoughts of my future, as well as enjoying the scenery on this very scenic stretch of the Thames. And then from nowhere, suddenly, I felt alone in the world. I felt apart from the world. I looked at all the people in all their cars, going about their business and I felt like a ghost. I was not one of them. I was fighting back tears, as the pointlessness of my existence projected from me onto every surface I could see for miles. Even those people who appeared troubled or unhappy that I encountered didn't elicit any empathy from me. Whatever their concerns, they still had a point. They were still meant to be!
And then I realised; it's ok. It's not real. These feelings. They are symptons of an illness. Like the hallucinations one may encounter after taking LSD. They seem real, they feel real, they are frightening and awesome and overwhleming, but they are not real. And if I can tell myself this; if I can believe this, then I will be fine. I can swallow it down like a pill. And like a pill, it will make it better.

I carried on with my walk, and decided to go to a cemetary that was close by. I hadn't been there before, but my friend and flat mate had told me it was quite large, and very nice.
I walked around, enjoying the feeling of superiority I had over the dead. And I enjoyed the fact that they were all equal in Death. In life, they would have lorded it over their neighbours. They would have schemed, and scammed, and saved, and stolen, and borrowed to have bigger cars, bigger gems, bigger houses, just so they could take on an air of superiority and yet at the end, it's all the same. This makes me smile, and happy. They say all men are created equal. Well, I don't know about that. I do know that life isn't fair, and all men certainly do not live equal. Yet, we all end up the same. Dead. Maybe I shouldn't find comfort in this, but I do. Probably if I were one of the greedy, superior ones, I would hate it. Maybe that's why they insist on stupid graves with stupid fucking statues and angels. They're stil l dead! But their last resting place is just that little bit more ostentatious than their neighbour's. To the end (and beyond) they still don't get it. Priceless!
And the irony is, of course, that my feeling of superiority over the fact that I am not materialistic, over the fact that I am working class, without a pot to piss in so with nothing to lose; and my feeling of superiority over the fact that I am living and all these people are dead is exactly the same kind of misjudged superiority that these people felt over their houses and bank balances and self-importance. For as much as I deny it, as much as a can't believe it, I will absolutely end up the same way. Dead.
But not today.