an addiction to misery

misery has always been a recurring character in my scattered multi-medium works of art. from my music to my high school film, this character has played the supporting role for a quite a long time. a character i recognise as not separate to myself, but rather as the part of me that’ll never abandon me.

one of the first few times i remember feeling this misery deep inside me was when i was 15, on a school trip surrounded by people that made me feel welcome, in control, happy. i felt the happiness throughout the trip, i can recall the sensation in my throat from screaming and laughing, but i also remember the sinking feeling in my stomach accompanied with the desire to disappear. it struck in the middle of the day, when i was walking to an event.

i believe i was crushing on a friend, and on this trip i got the previously inaccessible opportunity to spend time with her, make her laugh. but the joy was short-lived, i remember that she was talking to this older guy, some guy from another school who she later vocally expressed her interest for, and right then my stomach sank.

i remember plugging my earphones into my phone, i remember it was tangled up right where the singular wire split into two. that was an instance i chose to feel more miserable by putting on music that fed into how i felt.

i think that’s where the addiction to misery began. i incrementally began inhaling its familiar fumes, letting them seep into my lungs, spreading its tar to everything in its vicinity, including my premature beating heart.

this friend i was crushing on was compassionate, i vividly remember that she walked up to me to ask what was up with me and why i looked so down. i remember looking at her face, stricken with concern, and all i remember mustering is a vague answer of “yeah, i’m fine.”

i think that’s where it became worse, i began my addiction to misery but also began a consistent refusal of help. i’ve refused help from others my entire life because it felt like accepting help would’ve made me a lesser person, someone that needs help.

asking for help was a weakness, and the reality is that this is what i’ve believed for a long time.

even today, i have a tendency to refuse all sorts of help. i let things burden me to the point where i can’t handle it, forcibly having to pass it on to someone else.

the refusal and the addiction; hand in glove.

in the years that followed, i noticed the symptoms of my various conditions pop up every other day, i couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was, but i was too afraid, nay, too proud to ask for help. i let moments of passion, hate, depression, fear, pull me into their tide, i felt the light pull of its waves on my body but also the push that would follow it. there were moments of lucidity in these states, the part of my subconscious that cared, tried to keep away from it.

however, i couldn’t resist. i let myself go, i just gave up, let it pull me into its tide, first leading me to the middle of nowhere, isolated with no land in sight, floating, but gently sinking into its dark depths.

often, i would see a hand reaching towards me, and i refused it so that i could keep sinking. and when some remnants of lucidity would strike, i would reach to a hand but, i was far too deep already, i couldn’t help but bring my saviours down with me.

although, i seldom think i’m the same. i see the person that was drowning, and the person that made it out, and i can tell that they’re completely different people.

but sometimes it returns, the alluring tides sing to me, it knows how comfortable i feel in its embrace. i hear its gentle melody; never menacing, always smooth and soothing.

i think that’s something people often get wrong about depression, it’s not always an active hatred of self, or crying fits, sometimes, it’s the sensation of giving up and giving in.

i still feel that sometimes, i still feel the desire to return myself to its sweet embrace, but i refuse to float away like driftwood. that’s the difference between me today and me then.

then, i accepted that it was my fate to drown. now, i reject the fate with a timid refusal, but a refusal nonetheless.

forever changing,
firfoe.