Laugh

Sometimes you just have to sit back and laugh. Laugh at life. Laugh at.... anything. But then the depression is blocking it. So you sit there, doing all you can to make yourself laugh. You watch your favorite funny movies. You watch endless episodes of Simpsons. Inside, deep down, you know it's funny. The laugh doesn't come. I think that's the biggest horror about depression. Being unable to force out that laugh.

Yeah, you can always lean back to the mask. But then you're stuck with the mask again and you can't get rid of it. So then you're overcompensating. When someone is in another room, and you're watching Simpsons, you laugh doubly as hard just to make sure they know you're laughing. You tell yourself you're just doing it because you want them to ask what's funny. Then you'll tell them to come watch Simpsons. But they never do ask anyways. Yet you keep doing it. And it hurts. Not the laughing. It hurts that you start to realize you're overcompensating.

You've lost the human inside. So you just dance around hoping someone notices how human you are. Maybe that will make it real. But it doesn't.

And then I remember that I don't want to be human. Wait. I changed that. I decided that I liked being human. I? Yeah. Cause it's real again. I know I can't just force it off, pretend it's someone else. It's me. For all I know, it's only me. I'm the only one in the room forcing laughs to the Simpsons hoping someone will hear.

K... she once said that she slowly died. Pieces of her, one by one died. Until there was nothing left.

But remember? You're getting better. You're happy. Bored. But happy. You love life. You want life. And then you really wish you'd never talked about laughing.