My “Memoir”

I was trying to think of the best way to start my little blog and I immediately ran out of ideas.

You know how it is. You have ideas for ages but when you finally go to do something with them, they disappear.

So I decided to re-use something I wrote in my last year of high school. (I say that like it was aeons ago, but I only finished last year…)

We had to write memoirs for our English class, and I figure, why not show it to the internet. Nothing ever goes wrong that way 😛

So yeah, my memoir, as weird as that sounds to me.

 …

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep.

That was the average day for me. Sure, it’s a bit more detailed than that, but I’ve condensed it for simplicity’s sake. Everyday: the same.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Over and over it goes. On and on, each day blurs together.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

For weeks and weeks, that was how it was.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

This fog is clouding my vision.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

What day is it? Thursday?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

No? Tuesday? Okay.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Did I brush my teeth? I’m sure I did. Wait, maybe I didn’t?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Gah, this fucking fog! It won’t leave me alone!

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

When did I last brush my teeth?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Four days ago! That’s how long since I last brushed my teeth. I thought I did them just before. Oh well, at least I showered this morning. Or did I?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Oh, I showered yesterday morning. Then what did I do this morning?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

I can’t see past the fog! What did I do this morning?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Oh well, it doesn’t matter I guess.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

I at least took my medication this morning, right? No? I could have sworn I did.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Remember Mum, I laughed at you spilling your drink as I took them.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

What? A week ago? Impossible.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

What is this goddamn fog!?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

I’m tired. I’m going back to sleep. Or am I already sleeping?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Bah, who cares?

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

Confused yet?

I was. I still am. Weeks go by without me noticing. Everything blends together lately. I can’t really remember what happened yesterday, because I confuse it with what happened a few days ago. This is normal for me though. I don’t have any memory problems though, if that’s what you are thinking. Well, I don’t think I do. But that’s another story. What I’m trying to say is that this all must seem pretty dull to you. Just doing the same things over and over. I must live a pretty boring life. But that isn’t true. I play video games and watch videos. I joke with friends and have discussions with Mum and Dad about all sorts of things; hypothetical situations, religious views, moral issues. I laugh and sigh. I get angry. I look after my two year old brother. All this is quite in-depth and memorable.

So why the inability to recall things correctly? You must be very confused by this point.
“What is this kid on about?” you’re thinking.

Well it’s not that I have a boring life, or a bad one at that. I just don’t care about it. Yep, this is another depression story.

If you’re still reading this, you obviously aren’t put off by that fact, so I’ll get the basics out of the way quickly.

No, I’m not about to kill myself, though the thought has danced ingloriously across my mind on many a black day.

No, I don’t slash my wrists or hurt myself in any way. Again, it has occurred to me, but I haven’t fallen there. Not yet, anyway.

And no, I can’t just “get over it”.

Trust me, I wish I could. Oh, how I wish I fucking could. But I think for you to really understand what I mean, we should go through an average day for me. Not the simplified version, but, a play by play if you will.

It starts off normally. I wake up- kind of. I don’t actually get up. There is a big difference. See, I want to get up. My stomach is gnawing at its lining and my throat is dryer than talcum powder on hot concrete. I try to lift an arm and I manage only a few centimetres before it drops. I try my leg; same response. I manage to almost roll myself over before I lose all my energy and fall back. This is just one of the many trials I face during the day. That sounds facetious, but I mean that fairly literally.

See, most people think of depression as just being sad, but it is much more than that. It has many different forms and for me, this was one of the ways it manifested. A complete lack of energy. It was all I could do to stand sometimes, and getting out of bed isn’t easy for a teenager on the best of days. There had been many a day where I had simply given up and stayed there, lying down, dead to the world, and myself. Mum sometimes had to pull me out of bed, because I physically and mentally couldn’t. She wasn’t mad though. She had been through what I was going through, but she could see that I had to get up. I don’t though. I just see a world that is FUBAR’d and wish that I could distance myself from it.

I finally drag my lethargic form out of bed, eat breakfast, and get myself ready for another day at school. Another boring, time consuming and ultimately pointless day of school. I stopped caring about school long ago, but only recently did I start resenting it. I hate the idea of spending yet another day, surrounded by people, going from class to class, pretending like I give two shits about any of the things people have to say. Okay, well maybe that last part was an exaggeration, but you get the point. I don’t care about school. I have spent twelve years of my life attending it, and I don’t think I’ve really learned anything in the last four.

I feel kind of snooty when I say that I just learn faster than most people. At least in the basics. Things like grammar, spelling, discussion etiquette, simple mathematics; they all come naturally to me. I’ve always been ahead of most others in school, and I’m tired of being held back because of that. I want to get out and actually do something, not keep learning useless crap that I’ll never use again. I learn better when I’m interested. I taught myself to use all sorts of programs and how to play loads of games. I can write stories, pay bills, develop concepts, make decisions and express the ideas in my head. So why am I still forced to be at school every day, when I obviously gain nothing? I tell ya, it doesn’t exactly endear itself to me, that’s for sure. But I digress.

After hours of pretending to do school work, I get home, but I don’t really do anything. I lie there, on my bed, vaguely listening to some playlist of science videos for the umpteenth time, occasionally bothering to turn on my WiiU or 3DS and play a game, sipping increasingly flat Coke. This just further exemplifies my lack of energy. I mean, isn’t that kinda sad? I’m a lazy 17 year old loser at the best of times, but being too lazy to even play a video game while drinking Coke? That’s just beyond lazy. But I have no control over it. I just can’t work up the energy. Even sitting here typing this, my back aches and my abdominal muscles scream at me, angry that they are being forced to expend energy they don’t have.

And finally, when everything else is done, I fall into a fitful sleep. You would think that sleeping would ease my weariness, but it paradoxically makes it worse. It’s tiring to sleep.

Let that sink in for a moment: Tiring. It’s tiring to sleep.

I’m not going to even ask how the fuck that works, but it does.

While in this faux-rest, I dream. It’s never a good dream mind you. Or a bad one when I think about it. In fact, it isn’t even just one dream. It’s all sorts of different dreams, all dropped into the bucket that is my head and pounded with the mallet that is anti-depressants. A veritable mochi-ball of subconscious activity that I am fully aware of. Every second of it. Serotonin is a bitch to the sleeping body: sweating in winter, increased brain activity, shaking. The whole kit and caboodle. It’s even worse to the mind, running everything at a hundred miles an hour. So adding that to a dream in which you are running late for work, only to realise you showed up without clothes on at the wrong place while simultaneously being aroused by all the floating naked girls around you that are bitching you out because you didn’t breathe the right way (or some other equally confusing shit), makes for one crazy night! A night that makes you feel awkward, embarrassed, angry, sad and fearful all at once.

And this happens every night. Every. Single. One. You can see how this isn’t conducive to resting.

The next morning, I wake up stiff, sore, drenched in sweat and with less energy than I went to sleep with, only to have to get up and go through everything again.

“Please,” I whimper to myself, “I just want one minute- just one fucking minute- of serenity!”

It never comes though. It never comes.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

That’s the average day for me.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

It has been for a while now.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

And I’m afraid that it may never stop being that way; that I’ll never escape the belly of the gluttonous ouroboros that is depression.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

All I can do is try to push through, keep turning this wheel of diminishing returns.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

But, we all run out of energy. I will too, one day. Entropy has his spindly fingers on us all, the dick.

Wake up. School. Home. Sleep. Repeat.

And that day is what scares me most.

festina lente,

Logan, the Not-So-Dragon

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