Hey, there. I hope today has found you well.

This is going to be a long journal. If you choose to stay here and read all the way through (or even just some of it), I deeply appreciate your company and your time spent listening to me. Thank you from the bottom of my heart.




I want to sit down and take a moment to talk about mental health with you—particularly, my own. I believe I've made some smaller posts about it in the past, though I couldn't tell you how much detail I went into. I'm not here to vent, nor to elucidate my volatile mental state through cryptic and scattered prose (or on the rare occasion, actually structured poetry). I'm here to be transparent, and to talk about who I really am... particularly, the ugly parts of myself; I merely want to have it out there and not hide (intentionally or not) who I am, even if it means making myself vulnerable sometimes.

I'm sorry if this is unattractive or a turn-off to you—it just doesn't feel right to not talk about this kind of thing in detail at least once.


If you don't already know: I suffer from Major Depressive Disorder (MDD), and have for the past, like... who knows how long, by this point. I started to notice real and consequential symptoms around 2015-2016, but it's become particularly damaging since 2020 or so. It started off as anxiety, but as I grew older and managed my emotions better and developed better thinking skills, it started to show its true colors. I don't regularly have anxiety anymore—I was just an angsty teen and I wasn't great at handling my shifting emotional state.

For me, depression manifests in a few key things: Firstly, the mental state. It's not often I get sad, but more so I become apathetic to almost every facet of life, including the "existing" part. Depression isn't just feeling down and inwardly negative; for some, such as myself, it turns you away from the things you love and enjoy, and feelings of pleasure or satisfaction you might receive from certain activities are replaced with a void. My hobbies (piano, photography, writing, etc.) suddenly become meaningless during a depressive episode. The excitement of playing a video game that I've been hooked on lately is completely numbed. The joy of meeting with friends or hearing a really funny joke or even seeing someone I love smile just refuses to surface. This sensation is unavoidable. It might be triggered by a minor event or moment that generally would make me a smidge bothered or unhappy, or it might be triggered by literally nothing—my body is self-sabotaging at that point. I experience this regularly, every couple of weeks, for a couple of weeks minimum; it's a cycle.

In addition to that, energy levels hang at a low. The lack of interest or pleasure from activities that I find pleasuring is one thing, but my ability and desire to commit to them is another. As a person who is by nature dedicated to doing things he sets himself to and derives genuine enjoyment from finding novel ways to accomplish his tasks, I'm capable of committing to activities I might not have interest in doing. My physical and mental capacity to get those things done with is a separate vessel, and it becomes equally compromised during these swings of mine. Sometimes, the right synapses just don't fire, and I find myself physically unable to get out of bed, or mentally incapable of understanding a certain subject. Academically, I struggle to remember concepts regardless of how much I've studied it, which is what's been making my school life particularly hard lately, especially as my classes just get harder and harder.

This lack of energy is what causes me to leave messages unread (or completely missed), and for that I would like to apologize, again. I'm not ignoring you, nor am I uninterested in what you have to say. In fact, I probably have a lot to say—I just don't want to half-ass my messages and give the wrong impressions because I'm actively going through a depressive episode. I really hate doing that; if I'm going to respond to a message or a note, I care a lot about saying what I mean to say and getting it out accurately.

My body likes when I cope by stuffing my face with food and sleeping excessively, or perhaps wallowing in the negative emotions alone and surrounding myself with them like a friendly wreathe, basking in the sensation of wearing it like clothing. It's genuinely shocking to me that I haven't become overweight or developed some kind of eating or sleeping disorder by this point, because I indulge in those things a lot. Video games that I find mentally stimulating and engaging (not just nonsense scrollers or block-matching marathons) pull what mental energy I have towards completing my objective and being intellectually rewarded for it, which is a fine distraction. On rare occasions, the motivation to pursue my hobbies overpowers the drive to do nothing instead, and those bring some shipments of serotonin in. Sexual activities or drugs (some good old ABV or THC) are a great way to get some much needed dopamine in my body, and I also indulge in these often, but not to a point where it's become an addiction or something I physically can't go without.

Talking about these things with trusted friends does a lot to comfort me, but I understand that it's not an easy thing to listen or respond to, so I try to refrain from making it a talking point among my friends and loved ones.

The introspection aspect is a very relevant one. Sometimes, I feel guilty for existing. I've experienced a not-insignificant amount of verbal and emotional abuse over the course of my life, and that conditioning rebounds and pushes me into thinking negatively about myself. Did you know that I'm unproductive, worthless, only contribute negativity to my friends, have no redeeming qualities about myself, am annoying just for existing, and hurt others more than I heal them? You'd know that if you listened to my emotionally unstable brain.

I know so much about myself and am so in-touch with my body and mind that I might very well classify as a therapist for myself. I've been to therapy twice, already, and I impressed my doctors with how self-aware I am regarding my emotions and thoughts. It helps when you grew up as an only child in a military family, to be fair. Several years ago I'd have told you I'm my own best friend—not because I don't have any friends or dislike the ones I have, but because I've done more for myself than they have—because I'm the only one who can even possibly do anything for myself.

This is what depression really is: it's a state of being. In some ways, it's an identity. I feel more comfortable associating with my depression than with my own happiness and energetic, outward, blossoming love, because I feel like I know the dark parts of myself more than the light ones at this point in my life.

I'm deep down a loving, warm, excited, energetic, passionate, creative guy who loves you for who you are and thinks you are a beautiful person. All I want is to make you smile. All I want is to spread the happiness the world has to offer and show you what there is to appreciate in life.
There's just a lot of darkness in me, too. A lot of the time, it's overpowering. And lately, I've been starting to have miniature psychotic episodes in the form of delusions. It's nothing that goes against what I intuitively know or understand, but my fears and worries sometimes evolve into false understandings that I look back and genuinely could not tell you why I thought or conveyed to someone who had the misfortune to listen to me.


At the current time, meds are off the table for personal reasons. I'd like to think I can treat myself through lifestyle choices and having a support group in place. I'd like to think that the choices and circumstances preexisting are what's helped me not devolve into something worse over the past few years.

If you're a friend, or just an acquaintance who I talk to on occasion, I beg your patience. I'm good at managing myself and my feelings, but I'm not perfect. I'm afflicted with something that continues to grow and evolve in ways that even I am sometimes unsure of how to properly handle it. However, that doesn't get rid of the love I have inside for you and for the world, and I will never stop trying to let that shine through, no matter how deep into the dark I sink.

I understand that you might want to help me out. Being warm with me is one way, but traditional comfort or affection unfortunately doesn't do much for me in the moment. Please don't take it personally. Your patience and understanding of my situation is something I appreciate more than you might know. Chatting about random things or personal interests always helps lift the mood.

I'm sorry if I ever give the wrong impression, sound distant, or otherwise dampen the mood. I don't mean to make the room colder. I think you're an awesome person and I don't want my conditions to put that into question for you.


It's 03:41 and I've written a lot already, and I might make a follow-up journal touching upon some more related things because I feel like I have more to say, but I'm getting drained as it is. Regardless, thank you for taking the time to read through what I've had to say, if you've read this far. It means so much to me that you'd take the time to see what I have to write about myself, and I hope that it gives you a little more insight into who I am as a person, pretty and ugly parts inclusive.

Please have a good rest of your day—you have my blessing.