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After Chester died, when everyone talking about him and his life-- I listen to this song secretly. Before that, I can let my phone sing it without worry. Lol.
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Honestly today is not a good mood day. I spent my night writing and then stumbled upon some stories that are just so much better than mine that I feel like my own writing is just lacking and mediocre and it feels like I shouldn't bother with any of it. Like, I kinda just wanna trash every WIP I have right now. There are so many better stories, why bother add my own average-at-best ones. I want to be able to do so much more and so much better with my stories and I never feel like I'm able to. I can't do descriptions (not even in my native tongue which sucks because we have the most amazing words for everything ever), and I can't go over a scene and fill it out with things that aren't the absolute basis of what I have in my head. It sucks.
There are days where looking at anything Iāve written or drawn just literally makes me cry. Because itās awful. Itās all awful. All I can see is flaw after flaw after flaw. The sentences donāt flow, the words make no sense, every wording and phrase is just awful. And the drawings are cringe, so I donāt even want to go there.
Whatās probably the worst is that I know, on some level, thatās not entirely true. People tell me they like what I write. Friends tell me itās really good. And on my goodĀ days, I can see that theyāre not lying. That thereās some merit to it all. That my writing might not be perfect, but it has feeling at the very least.
I hate that I canāt believe what people tell me about my writing. Even if it brings such fucking wonderful feelings when I get a comment saying someone likes what I do, or having someone spew happiness in a tag, or when writer friends tell me what they like about it. Itās just, if depression is heavy that day, at max Iāll last an hour or two before I start to doubt what theyāre saying. That theyāre looking through tinted glasses, and see the effort and not the product. That theyāre trying to be encouraging but that itās not really good at all.
When that spiral starts, it doesnāt take long for me to just. Hate my writing. Hate everything Iāve ever put out there. Hate everything Iāve ever done or accomplished. Hate myself. Hate that Iām doubting people. And on those days, I canāt even escape through other peopleās art and writing because all I see is how low I am in comparison (yes, I know I shouldnāt compare myself to others, but mental illness kinda prevents logic from being in control there).
I donāt have any healthy coping mechanisms. I donāt really know how to cope at all, healthy or unhealthy. I just try to push it away and hope the dam doesnāt break, and hide in my room if it does.
I donāt really even talk to people in my life about this. I donāt discuss it with friends, because I absolutely hate the thought of bringing someone else down with me. And even if I mention it, I instantly start waving it off whenever they express worry, because I both donāt want to waste their time and have no understanding of how to accept support. Compliments, support, anything like that - I shy away from it because I just. Donāt know what to do with it all. And believe that, for the most part, I donāt deserve it.
Yeah, just. Todayās been shit. The last few days have been shit. Depression sucks. Have a friend (you know who you are) who started a blog on their depression and might follow in their footsteps using this blog. So, like. Thereās a heads up about potentially seeing more whinging, whining, stupid shit like this in the future.
I wish others knew that itās so hard to stayĀ āpositiveā when you have depression. Because our brain is literally screaming at us the opposite constantly.Ā
I know I canāt always be negative and down about everything, but please do realize that being āpositiveā about things is such a struggle for me.Ā
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