Depression?

Fuck.

Yes I will start this blog post out with a word that intellectually defines abundance, while concurrently using it to represent my perpetual confusion about things I cannot explain; my life represents 100% of those things.

Honestly, I do not think I am ashamed of it, but shame still creeps in, reminding me of the downfall that could be me.

Part me of uses shame to devote motivation and the likelyhood of my sucesses and maybe that is a beautiful way to look at my own extension of negative thinking.

There are so many outlets in the world to release the fixture of pain from my mind, body, and soul, however, I am so idignant and prideful that the very knowlege and intention of me helping myself can result in me detesting said outlet.

To say the least, I feel extremely unhealthy, while romanticizing this heavy, toxic feeling because it seperates me somehow from my pain. It allows me agency to feel as though things are not my fault or that I really cannot help it.

Am I being unconsciously dramatic and consciously sadistic ? This poses as a mental health question and i am mostly in need of marijuana based smoke session.

I am exhausted and I still cannot sleep. So tense that I cannot relax and it feels so insighfully painful that i laugh when crying and maybe this is depression.