Never Ending

Those of us who suffer from Major Depressive Disorder don't have any discrimination laid against us because we have an invisible disease. We never tell anyone about our situation because "Normal" people just won't understand that in fact, smiling doesn't always cure everything, that to us, the sun may not come out tomorrow, because there's always that possibility that you'll lose control, that it'll get the better of you and force you to end your life simply on the basis that it becomes the most viable option of irradicating this illness once and for all.

The very fact that get out of bed every morning is a victory. Some of us won't tomorrow.

That being said, just because I have depression doesn't mean I'll commit suicide. It just means that I'm not afraid of it. I do not fear my own death, after all it is the inevitable destination for every living thing on our planet.

Like I said, it doesn't seem that I have any discrimination laid against me...because already hate myself too much to care what you think about me or notice what you say against me.

Systematic Rhapsody.

The Greatest achievement a man can accomplish is his ability to provide for himself the creature comforts made readily available to him through a meritocratic process of consumerism and thankless work. This way he will achieve a sense of Rhapsody.

At least, that's what society seems to be telling me.

At the risk of sounding like a misinformed proponent of Marxist political thought, I just want to say that I don't find the notion of liberal capitalism evil.

I just find it immature.

I feel that it's synonymous to the smal child who will whine incessantly when he sees a new toy, and then discards it after the first two days of ownership. The premis of our liberal consumeristic culture is in essence amplifying our animalistic tendencies of self-gratification, greed and overall laziness.

I mean, why work when somebody else can do it?
Why share? That means less for Me and more for Them.

I see that the Jones' have a new car, so I must have a better car.

Why am I ranting about the "ills" of society you ask?
Well, to be frank, I'm not. I just thought I'd share with you a small portion of my view of things. As you can gather. I just don't fucking care about what car I drive or what electronic gadgetry I own or who's name is sewn into the back of my shirts. When you live with Major Depression these things that everyone tells you are pinnacles of your existance just don't seem so important.

I just thought it would be a good starting point, a fixture that anyone reading this can understand (they may not agree with my opinion, but they can at least understand what I'm trying to convey).

I created this blog for two reasons:
1) I've never had a blog before, and thought "fuck it"
2) I want to provide anyone reading this with an idea of what a depressed perspective on life is like in hopes of allieving the stigma that we're all "A bunch of suicidal crazies who didn't get enough hugs as children"

I'm not afraid to tell people that I have this ailment...why should I be?
No-one cares anyway.

And so my rhapsody can't be bought or sold.
It has to be built every second of every day.

my own systematic rhapsody.