promise

i deliberately choose the worst things to think about///that's what I do. 

sometimes I have wondered how it;s even possible for my own mind to punish me like it does - to cause me such distress. after all, isn't it part of me? how can it attack me? Like, where does it get those resources from? How can my mind, which serves me, inflict pain on me? How is that even possible? 

I really take for granted my relative mental well-being. I know I do. 

the irony of depression is that it is your refuge, so recovery seems like a worsening of things. Recovery seems like it's the problem. 

that's something that I find very interesting...that reversal. something good manifests as something bad. the finest impulses and most valuable qualities get converted by the real world into potent and destructive problems. 

I don't think it's a coincidence that some of the most brilliant and creative people - David Foster Wallace, Sylvia Plath, are the two that come to mind - had problems with severe depression. It's what this world seems to do, as if it can't accomodate a gift so pure and precious.