on depression

As in, a depression of the human mind.

Somehow, things like prozac and other anti-depressants never made any sense to me. How could a bunch of chemicals cure my mind of some psychological condition that is so abstract, even text books have a hard time defining it.. in fact, any psychological condition. Maybe that was the case because I had never ever felt the true power of depression. Not that I was always happy, but I wasn’t suicidal either.

It kind of makes sense, now that I am constantly in this psychological realm of mood swings. I am not suicidal to the point I will actually do it, by the way, to those of you who are reading this and wandering. I am too much of a coward for that, or, too much of a thinker. Same difference.

This is some new phase of life that I’m experiencing, one that nobody knows how to tread through, because it’s unique to each person who goes through with it. If there’s anyone who knows what it means to be in such a state, it’s people who’ve been through it before and survived. Psychiatrists don’t know shit, not at this time anyway. Maybe in 50 years they will. They haven’t a clue whether it’s misfiring neurons or a motherfucker of an organic molecule stuck in some thought pathway somewhere. They’re as much making up theories as they go along discovering new ways to interprete how the human brain works. Constantly changing their theories to reflect properly on their resumes and to assure their standing among readers of the New England Journal of Medicine.

Or maybe it’s because of the damnable medicines I’m taking. After all, these medicines are also based on those half-assed theories on how the brain works. Maybe they’re making my neurons misfire, so I have to go get another set of medicines to make them fire correctly; maybe that’s what those anti-depressants are. It’s all a big conspiracy theory.

Ah, who the fuck knows.

This is also one my own half-assed theories anyway.

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