I feel better, right now.
I just finished taking a shower, after having been too depressed for over a week, and I feel like I cleaned off a bit more than simple grime.
Or maybe it's that I spent most of the day listening to records. Paying attention to how the sound changed from when I first bought the albums. It's amazing what happens when you aren't paying attention.
My depressive stages are odd. The first few days are the hardest. I thrash against the new emotion. Fight it in every way I can think of. And then I fail. And it's accepting the failure that's difficult.
Depressions always come on tail end of high periods. Periods where I think I am wonderful, if not perfect (okay, I admit it, I sometimes think I'm perfect. Mark it up to the disease.) The transition from that--complete power and confidence--to absolute worthless and ineptitude is incredibly hard to take. Especially when nothing can stop it coming.
The whole world, the entire outlook on life is shattered. Everything seems lost. And it happens over and over and over. Neverending.
After the first week or two of depression, it becomes easier to take. After that point I can accept that I've lost, that I'm going to lose until the wind shifts again. And I just wait. Entertain idle fantasies of death, perhaps, but wait.
There's nothing else to do.
It's almost relaxing, after a while. The complete immersion in one emotion.
Makes life simpler.
Which isn't to say I'm not poking it with sticks whenever I can.
I listen to Bright Eyes because he comforts me. I go to as many itty bitty shows as I can because they dazzle me.
Music is the constant. When I'm depressed, nothing else exists. People disappear, books become incomprehensible, but music is always there.
...I think it's also what I manage to mention in every entry, despite my attempts to cut down on the frequency.
No. Willpower. Whatsoever.
revoless.
9:05 p.m.
November 16, 2003.
Listening to: Helium.