Some time ago, I had to leave my school because of something I did, something very stupid and inconsiderate to others. Because of the way I am, I did not recognize what I did for what it was, nor did I understand what was going on afterwards. I could not understand why no one from the school attempted to contact me, to ask me why, to get my side of the story. I was never given the opportunity to apologize. I enrolled in another school, and barely a month in, they found out about what happened and asked me to leave, so I was sent home once again.
I had few connections and friends outside my old school. Now it seems almost everyone knows about what happened. I worked a sh***y construction job, then my old summer job. I resumed therapy and working out a local gym. I kept playing games.
But there's no one here, not really. I mean, my family is here, my oldest friends are here. But gone is the experience of reading something interesting or coming across an exiting moment in a film or video-game, and immediately sharing that with someone in the room. I can get up and go get food, but there will be no one there to talk to save my mother. I have no real work to do beyond house chores, and no sense that anything I do is building towards a goal. It was hard enough to take pride in my art or writing before. Now, it seems utterly pointless. I have to occupy my mind on games or menial tasks, because every time I stop to think, my brain hurts. Or my heart, I'm not really sure which.
Is this depression?
01 Jan 2012, 2:31 pm
