Into the Labyrinth

I’ve sunken into depression.

“Depression.” I hate that word. It’s nothing against the word itself. It’s how everyone uses the word. It’s like OCD. Everyone uses it, no idea what it means. They just want to be special little snowflakes. “I’m OCD about this,” they say. Because they watched a few episodes of Monk and think OCD is fun. It’s not. And they do the same with depression. They think it’s like “Upset Plus,” like it’s a tier above sad or something. I hear that so often. “Just feeling my depression,” people say.

“Oh?” I like to ask. “Do you know why you’re upset?”

“Yeah, it’s because–”

Then it’s not depression. It’s an emotional reaction to environmental stimuli. That’s not depression.

I would have killed myself a dozen times in the last six months if it wasn’t for my cats. That was why I left them in Vegas, after all. And then that was why I paid a guy to bring them to me on his flight. When I left Vegas, I figured I had about a 30% chance of actually continuing the drive, not stopping and going into the desert with my gun–

One shot and the world gets smaller.

But then I decided to survive, and I needed my cats to help me do that. We don’t really have a normal relationship. They don’t behave toward me like most cats do toward people. It’s hard to explain. I know how cats act toward people, though, and then there are these two. And they’ve kept me alive because I don’t want to leave them alone.

Who else is there? My family shuns me.

There are my friends, of course, but as I know damned well–life goes on.

It’s probably a good thing that I have my cats. Life wouldn’t just go on for them. And most people can say that about other humans. Life hasn’t just gone on for Monte’s wife or John’s wife. Life doesn’t just go on for someone when a sibling dies. It does, but it’s not the same. One of my really good friends seems to be losing his mind, too, so that’s something. My best friend through most of my teenage and adult life, who is a swinger himself, wants nothing to do with me now. I don’t really care about that, because he was kinda a loser anyway, but it just goes to show.

There’s no point in writing this, and even less point in posting it.

One thought on “Into the Labyrinth

  1. Those cats sound really special. They have given you a reason to live and keep going on despite all the setbacks.

    At least as far as a point in writing and posting this post, maybe there is one. That we all need something to help us keep going on in life. It doesn’t matter what it is. Something that you post illustrated. You have your cats, I have my dog. Whatever it is, it is our lifeline.

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