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Cheery title, right? I felt like being a bit poetic for a bit, so sue me.
That said, I am depressed. Not many people know it, because I've become quite good at hiding it. But I have trouble actually calling myself depressed, because I'm not one of those depressed people who acts like it all the time. When I'm with friends, or at work, or just having a good time, I'm happy. But when I'm back in my house with just my parents, or when I'm alone, I feel like shit.
It's almost as if I've become this person that feeds off of everyone else's happiness. I've always known that the only thing that makes me happy is to make and see others happy. As of late, though, it would seem that instead of just bringing me happiness, it's something I need. I need to see my friends happy. I need to be generous. I need kindness and happiness around me to not feel how I usually feel.
I smoke to make me forget about how I feel. Well, it's not even for that. I really don't know why I do. It's like I've got this masochistic attitude towards it. A deathwish, almost. I don't care if it kills me. And sometimes I'm not sure that, aside from the obvious people, anyone would really even be bothered much by it. I've been shown so much false kindness in my life that I have trouble separating when people are just being "nice" or are genuinely thankful for things I do. But, for those few minutes when that cig is burning, I can forget about everything. It's a nice little escape.
On that note, speaking of death, I have a strange attitude towards death. I'm not afraid of death. In fact, I welcome death. It's a fact of life; one of the few things that we know in complete certainty will happen. Death doesn't care how rich you are, how powerful you are, or how popular you are. And the inverse is true. Death is non-discriminatory. And I think that's why I have a fascination with it. It doesn't scare me. I know it's coming for me, hiding around every corner. Every time I ride my dirtbikes, get in my car, even walk down the street, I'm flirting with it.
I really have no idea what the point of this blog was. But it felt good to type it. Catharsis through keyboard once more.
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