Some days I can look outside a coffee shop window, and see dreary grey staring me down.  It tells me my hair’s too flat, and my belly too big.  The caffeine talks to me.  It says, “I’m not as strong as I used to be, am I?”

The Vitamin D I take floods my system like a placebo, thus I sit lacking the needed side-effect and stare back at the grey skies.  Fantastic Indie music rains down from the ceiling, increasing the glumness of an Oregon April afternoon.  What is it about indie music that increases my depression some days.  

Did I mention that I stayed up last night crying?

I stayed up all night thinking about escape.  Then I started thinking about suicide, and it started to freak me out.  Over and over again in my head I would think about packing up my backpack and going boxcar hopping.  That or simply disappearing into the local hills coming down only to get food once in a while.  

Have I explained that I’m suffering from depression?  Well, yes, in one of my previous entries I mentioned it, and then wrote this little article about how to keep it from making me productive.  But then yesterday I thought, what do I really want to do with myself that I think will make me happy.  What am I passionate about?  

What am I passionate about anyways?  What can I do that anyone else can’t do better.  All anyone writes about is how it doesn’t matter what others do, and if it’s been done before, because you still need to create.  When my ego shrinks and my feelings become minute imaging anything positive is difficult.  Thinking that my creations make a difference is so incredibly difficult that I curl into a ball and start to bawl.

I am not writing this because I want my friends or family to call me frantically.  I am writing this to show that I contemplated escape.  That such contemplations lead me to thinking about suicide, which is why I ended up on some suicide prevention websites.  Perhaps if more people were willing to talk about contemplating escape or suicide, then such contemplations would be less unacceptable socially to discuss.  Then more people would seek help instead of being afraid to even mention it.  I’ve had several friends attempt suicide.  They are good friends, and luckily they have all survived.  If I don’t talk about this, and be open about it, then I will only sink further into my own internal grief.