we seek refuge in a confessional. on the internet you can be anybody you want to be. write with a pseudonym. be the racist young pornographer you can’t when you’re sixty and work the nine-to-five-am at mcdonalds. i’m twenty eight and it feels like i’m sixty sometimes, working the daily grind. can’t retire early. have to keep going. but i’m not sixty. and that naked maturity and illusion of experience betrays my own nature sometimes. i am a scared, wily man with the same issues that everyone else has. they are compounded as my own. everyones’ are. and it is in that selfish grey area where ignorance resides.

i’d like to think i’m not an ignorant person, only because of how strongly that word has been dissected in present day discussion. it is ignorant to assume anything about anyone without knowing them first. it is ignorant to have an opinion on something you know nothing about. but in the traditional sense of human kindness i am ignorant. because i have chosen to put myself in situations where philanthropy does not exist unless i myself will it to be. so i see the worst in people because the worst is all they have to give at the time. it goes back to the classic argument of whether people are good or evil by nature. blame the parents. blame myself. i’m sick of dealing with other people’s bullshit.

i had a depressive episode over the weekend. they are fewer and further-between since i met my partner but they still happen from time-to-time. i was defeated. my job felt no longer like a means to an end and more like the stanford prison experiment part two. i had the fear of going downtown on a saturday night surrounded by strangers to embrace the unfamiliar. news that i had been booked into an event with someone i am scared to be alone with. and a tragic birthday party made doubly-worse by my self-imposed exile. just too much, on top of a lack of sleep and the conveyor of time steadily rolling forward and seemingly dictating my every move against my wishes. i needed to stop. retreat. cede. so i did. i called in sick to work and took a day in bed. you hear depression PSAs that say staying in bed all-day is a sign but initially there seemed to be no negative drawbacks. my bed is warm and comfortable. i can control the amount of covers on it. there is a fan blowing cold humidifier water on my face that i can turn on and off when i need to. my choices are few but they are not daunting and the only person i am responsible for is myself. ignore the phone, don’t eat or drink, and just rest. fifteen hours in my partner was sick of my behavior and managed to break my shell and get me to talk, but it was not easy. because i don’t want to talk about my problems. no one does. no one thinks they need first aid if they’re still conscious. self-preservation. but those people aren’t just hurting themselves. i am not simply punishing myself by staying in bed. by refusing an invitation with a friend because i am scared of how they make me feel. by choosing to isolate myself at a party and alienate everyone there. by deciding to have a bad time. i am making these choices to hurt those around me for ignorant reasons. and the sad part is that there isn’t any way to go back in time and change that perception. what is done is done and all we can do is move forward with knowledge and understanding. i had become what i fear and i fear the future if my future is what i have become.

which goes back to this blog post, long-overdue. i have the opportunity to get a therapist and possibly go on some sort of anti-depression or anti-anxiety medication. i’ve had a counselor before and i stopped after two sessions because i was uncomfortable with them, in that odd way where now that i’ve opened up to you should i be buying you dinner or should you be buying me dinner? but it helped in a slight, short-term way. and i could go down that road again. or i could commit to blogging more and seeing where this takes me. i haven’t made a decision yet.