The Depression Rambles: My Zombified Brain
I try to access my emotions, but I can’t. They’re like fish swimming in the pond, but between us is a thick layer of ice that I can’t seem to crack. Still, I’m aware of their existence. I see their faint shapes through the wall of ice. That’s the existence of my emotions. Somewhere below they’re bubbling like a volcano about to burst, but the antidepressants and mood stabilizers keep them pushed deep down.
I want to feel again. It is such a desperate need that I’m ready to do anything. I dyed my hair purple which made me experience a short period of mania, but that’s all. I got another tattoo, but the pain wasn’t enough. I don’t even feel it healing. Nothing. I took a day off, hoping that the next one would be better. I got drunk again. It helped that evening, but the next day I woke up hopeless again, dreading everything that was about to come.
My only escape from the zombified state of mind are my dreams. That’s probably the reason I spend so much time sleeping. That, and my cat on my chest, cozied up like a soft, white scarf. Even when my dreams start turning into nightmares, I keep sleeping. Any kind of mind stimulation seems better than the constant feeling of nothingness.
You know, I’m starting to hate my shrink. What’s the use of being his lab rat? It’s been a year and a half of seeking the right medication and…
