The Lonely Beast






 A new, updated, fresher layout for the blog and a few bits that have cheered me up this week.

Depression is a lonely beast. It's not as if I have a few fellow depressed housemates and we've synced up like it's our time of the month, so we sit around in our pyjamas having a cupcake party. If only. It's very much a personal thing, I try my best to let others know what's going on, they can usually tell when my mind is cluttered and bothering me. However, I can't always tell them the specifics at the time it's occurring, this may be due to being afraid of certain thoughts and how others may react if I voiced them out loud. I'm frequently clouded with thoughts but I can't pinpoint what's really bothering me, why I've suddenly slumped and can't even build a nest for myself on the sofa in front of some familiar TV programme for comfort. On days like those nothing can break the flow of those thoughts, I cannot concentrate and yet I can't relax either, I'm restless but I just want to lay down in the foetal position for hours and watch the sky go from dusk to dawn, black to blacker. As I said, it's a lonely beast, especially when you can't figure out what the problem is so you can share it with others. Depression is the world's greatest incognito figure, a master of disguise and a shape shifter.

The worst part of leaving university and living away from my hometown is not knowing many people here, I can go for months with only seeing the same three people. As lovely as they are I miss other human contact, I seem to be afraid that I'll lose the connections formed at uni, the people that were unknowingly such a huge support when I needed it most. I'm also scared that those friendships may not have been as strong as I recall, most memories I have were formed in my first year there back in 2012-2013. My second year of uni consisted of me fading away into my lockable room, barely seeing anyone from February onwards. I was frequently left agonising over conversations I felt had gone badly, I sweated over the details such as how I fidgeted nervously the entire time or how I knew I ought to have walked away sooner but I was too anxious and awkward to excuse myself and leave.

Most people attempt to convince me that others don't notice the things I sweat over, but what if they did notice? What if the image I left them with is one they don't want to remain in contact with or even be reunited with? I'm trying my hardest to reach out and keep the connections flowing, but how long will the links remain in tact if I can't face returning to the place where everything crumbled?


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