Definition: Depression as given by Google
- a mental state characterized by a pessimistic sense of inadequacy and a despondent lack of activity
- a long-term economic state characterized by unemployment and low prices and low levels of trade and investment
- natural depression: a sunken or depressed geological formation
- sad feelings of gloom and inadequacy
- a period during the 1930s when there was a worldwide economic depression and mass unemployment
- low: an air mass of lower pressure; often brings precipitation; “a low moved in over night bringing sleet and snow”
- depressive disorder: a state of depression and anhedonia so severe as to require clinical intervention
- a concavity in a surface produced by pressing; “he left the impression of his fingers in the soft mud”
- angular distance below the horizon (especially of a celestial object)
- pushing down; “depression of the space bar on the typewriter”
I am tired of the snow, sleet, rain, and weather of Oklahoma. I have a strong hatred for my job, but it pays and its not the worst out there. I am thankful for having it. But I hate it! I dream about it. It keeps me stressed. It doesn’t pay near enough for the shit I have to deal with there. I am tired of the feeling of sharing my earnings. I have always been a really sharing, caring, giving individual but I am tired of being that. I want to be given love, gifts, advice, assistance, money. I want to be rewarded for what I have given out. I am tired of being the bearer of relationship knowledge. I am tired of being the sugar momma. I am tired of being the mother. I want to be a child. I want to be my age. I want to to be me. Why can’t I do what I want? I think that these feelings have bottled for too long. But when I blurt them out, whenever I finally say these secrets. When I finally complain and say whats on my mind, YOU don’t listen. Damn this life. Damn this house. Damn this town. I want Danielle back.
I don’t want to to move from where i sit. I don’t want to work. I don’t want to paint. I don’t want to write. I don’t want to read. I don’t want to breathe. I don’t want to do anything. But I found myself crying on the floor in the closet. I found myself crying in the shower. I found myself weak getting dressed. I find myself falling apart. I don’t want to be this person. I don’t like to be this person. I am not this girl. I am outgoing. I am outspoken. I am strong-minded, independent, vibrant, loving-Danielle.
What exactly is the problem? Does this happen often?
Often no, more frequently, yes. Is is the boyfriend. Is it the job. The schooling. The work. The money. The town. The memories. The past. Everything.
I want to smile. I want to get excited. I want to indulge in sexual behavior and enjoy the rush and want more. I want to live. I don’t just want to be alive.
Who knows what this is, who cares.