Depression is a disease that would cripple you. It will glue you to your lonely bed. And thoughts would defeat you and you’ll end up sobbing in solitude. If you won’t fight it, it will surely kill you.
What else could wash depression away than a can of beer, a good conversation with an equally (or maybe less but she’s a good friend enough to be empathetic) depressed friend. One night of pouring beers and pouring miseries out. It is comforting when your thoughts and emotions turn into words and someone was there to react to it. Someone is there not to tell you that you’re stupid but someone understanding enough to tell you that following your heart may not be right but as long as it makes you happy, it’s alright. But when you say that you’ve had enough, she’ll support you all the way. Its always great to have a friend that would jump along a cliff with you. But its always greater to have a friend that could share a can or more of beer with you.
So what exactly am I depressed about? This is the first time I’m going to spill it. And its not because of the beer but because when you’re full you have to let some out. So I was in a relationship for six months now. It is not remotely dead yet but I’ve been mourning the whole life of our so called relationship. I met this guy in a bar and its not completely love at first site, it might just be because he came in the right time. The time when I was starving for immediate love subject. I was so uninspired and needs to forget. So in short, as in really short, like a day, I entered a relationship with a guy I met within twenty four hours. It was way more than being stupid. And besides I wasn’t ready. So just like all relationships that started in haste it came crumbling faster than a speeding bullet. It struck me right into the chest and left me blooded and in extreme pain. After the hurting subsided I realized I wasn’t in love with the person, I was in love with the idea of love. And now I still couldn’t find the courage to end it, though by relationship and its true essence, it has already ended a long time ago, I just turned my eyes blind to it.
I know my friend is going through the same thing. We don’t have to talk about it openly but we know we understand its other. One thing that always ends up hurting us is how ideally romantic we are. I can pretty much say that were the keeper kind but we always end being abandoned, abused and taken for granted. We deserve the best and if there’s there’s a better word than best in the dictionary, we probably deserve it too.
I almost emptied the can, and my thoughts too. That one friend is not just the friend sitting here beside me but also the friend who is reading this.