Why am I… …me?

Sometimes in the abyss of my depression, I try to look on the brighter side of things and tell myself how fortunate I am instead of how unfortunate I am. It would go something like this:

Depressed me: Life sucks.

Optimistic me: Hey at least you don’t have lipodystrophy.

Depressed me: Why am I so huge? People can eat all they want and remain slim and…look at me!

Optimistic me: At least you don’t have congenital obesity.

Depressed me: Why don’t I have congenital high metabolism rate instead? All I have is huge appetite and stubborn fats.

Optimistic me: At least you don’t have progeria or fibrous displasia.

Depressed me:*angry* Dude! Stop bringing up all the diseases caused by recessive alleles that are like occurring one in several hundred millions! Point is, I am fat, and my IQ is not as high as I want it to be.

And that argument would go on for a while until I am really tired or really depressed and decided that I won’t care whether I am fat or skinny or dumb. Then the while argument would start again when there is a trigger to cause it to start.

Simple things make me depressed nowadays.

I am sorry to use the word “depressed” so flippantly, because I know that there are people out there who are sincerely depressed with depression while here I am, acting up over little bumps in my life.

But hey, no one said that just because in comparison, my life is better than people who are less fortunate or those with progeria or lipodystrophy or fibrous displacement means that it does not give me a right to depression or self-displeasure. I feel guilty that I am whining so much when I have so much with me, and that sometimes make me feel like I am being “robbed of my right to self-pity” and that was somehow…saddening.

I won’t say that I am under a lot of stress or pressure as people imagine me to be, because someone who is truly pressured and stressed probably wouldn’t have time to blog away one day before a physics and maths paper that they have not revised for, at all. (That was one convoluted sentence.)

Instead, there is a plethora of things that make me unhappy, like living with the knowledge that all my stress and lack of sleep is probably not going to end with this examination and they are in fact going to aggravate in JC. I am not looking forward to that, definitely.

I know that there will be people out there who tell me to “treasure this chance to go to JC” because certainly there are those who would sacrifice all their sleep to go to JC if such a chance exists. My point is, I am grateful. But if you take a step back and think, I worked hard to go to JC, and it sorts of contradicts with the “treasure this chance” thingum doesn’t it? My gratitude doesn’t stop me from worrying, fearing or stressing either.

Another thing that stressed me is that I would have to see some of my primary school classmates again in JC, and I don’t look forward to seeing all of them. We all know that I was not popular in my class in my second primary school, and I don’t dispute with that. I am just disturbed that the people whom I said goodbye to with such ease, or rather those that I gladly part with, are going to be in that same school compound with me, and that is not the worst thing. The worst thing is the fact that some image of me has already been engraved in their heads, and such impressions are hard to be changed.

Questions links back to why I would even bother with my own image.

I have no idea, seriously. I think, maybe, it is all part of growing up? Or is that too cliche for words? I search my head for the right words, but none came to me.

Then I have this plan, this grand plan. Why don’t we pretend that we know none of them, NONE at all in fact, and then treat them this politely, this cordially and this…coldly? That sounds pretty cool. But then again, at times I don’t feel like facing or doing the things I am uncomfortable with, and putting on a smile when I don’t feel like it is a bit difficult.

But then again maybe those people are not as horrible as I think, or maybe I am the horrible one all along? That idea itself made me pause to think.

Anyway, I just downed a cup of coffee and it works miracles in lifting my mood. It is like, “Hey, how bad can it get?” Well, it can’t, I won’t let it.

*smirks drunkenly*

I have no idea what I am typing now because I am too active…but let’s just say that I have a bloody brilliant plan in mind (gotta love my alliterations) to deal with everything, and anything.

*smiles in satisfaction*

kiraknightyy

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