User blog:SnakeTongue237/General Nastiness: Where I've been over the past few months.

I'm going to assume most of you have read RuckusQauntum's blog at this point in time.

I'd like to start out by wishing RuckusQauntum the best of luck. I can definitely relate to what he's going through right now, and maybe some of you can too. Those of us who've been there know: Depression is nasty business. It wrecks lives, destroys relationships, and kills general livelihood. Ruckus had the courage to speak up about what was happening in his life, and now, permitted you have the time to read this, I'd like to do the same.

My troubles started about a year ago. I was transferring to a school where my father worked as a spainish teacher. It made transportation a lot easier, and it was generally seen as the best option to further my education, which was hugely important to me. There was just one little problem. I didn't have any friends.

I was typically disliked at this school. I didn't get bullied or anything like that, but rather, kids ignored me. Kids were, I think, scared of me. I'm around 6'2" which is pretty large for my age, and on top of that I wore long hair and was always wearing a t shirt of a metal band. On top of that, I was quiet and shy, but also angry at times. It was enough to make people generally ignore me, and deep down, that was the way I liked it. I hated everyone there. I hated them because they hated me, which, really, only furthered an already deep hole of isolationism (despite the fact that I was surrounded by people.) A steady ball of negative energy was beggining to build inside of me. One that would grow larger in time.

Now, lets fast forward a bit. It's a few months later. I have just gotten out of the hospital for appendicitis, and I am looking forwards to doing a little writing about some of the ideas I had while I was in the hospital. It was around that general time that I got hit hard with depression. It's a mental illness that I had suffered with for years now, but right then it was worse than ever. I didn't really know why. I was unhappy. More than that, I was empty. There was no point in anything anymore. I was doing shit just to do shit. There was no reason behind it. So why do it? I stopped writing altogether. That didn't have a point anymore. It was writing that had got me out of a bad spell of depression a year previous, but now, it wasn't doing me any favors. So, no more writing.

Things really began to spiral out of control when my grades began to drop. I had always been a star student, a shining gold standard for what other kids should be, so when I started slipping, my parents were clearly concerned. Me? Not so much. I hated shool (Drinking game: take a shot every time I say "hate" in this blog post) and I didn't see how it was going to do me any good. Sure, it would help me to "Succeed," in life, or some shit like that, but what was succeeding, really? Whether I was homeless or living in a mansion, I would be miserable either way, so what's the fucking point, right?

My regular depressive coping habits began to fail me. It used to be that whenever I was feeling angry or sad (Which was pretty often) I would just listen to music for awhile until my emotions were under control. Or I would do some writing. But, as of late, nothing like that was quite doing it.

So, I committed some acts that I'm not too proud of. I began drinking excessively, much to the dismay of my parents when they finally found out. Worse even than that, were my rage induced episodes of self harm. I was so mad so often that I knew something or someone around me would have to hurt every once and a while. The way I saw it, better me than someone else. I cut myself with razors, repeatedly punched myself until I was bruised, and even clawed and bit into my skin. At one point, I was so upset during school, that I asked to go to the bathroom before ripping into my flesh with the sharp end of a pen.

The ball of hate that had begun to accumulate months ago was reaching a state of near explosiveness. Anything could set me off. I yelled often, and over trivial matters at that. I kept telling myself, "When summer comes this will all be over, and you won't have to worry anymore." I convinced myself that school was the problem.

Summer came. Things got even worse. My mother became increasingly mad at me, ironically, because I was getting increasingly mad at the world. I destroyed things, punched a hole in my wall, and got increasingly short with friends (from different schools) that were being kind to me. I needed something to dull the ache, and recently, something has come into light that I think will help.

I was accepted into a new school. And I immediately made the decision to transfer.

More importantly, I was accepted into a school in which I have friends who will welcome me.

I'm hoping that this will somewhat pull me out of my current horrible mental state. I guess you could say I'm pretty fucked up. But I really hope that this will help, or at least stunt my hate.

For those who are still with me, thanks for listening to me bitch and moan. Before I leave, I suppose there is one thing left worth mentioning.

I'm taking a creative writing class this year. As I'm sure you can imagine, my stories will be very much horror themed, and I don't see a reason why I shouldn't put them up on this site ;)

Again, thanks. It's good to be back, and I look forward to collaborating with all my old friends on this site.