The creeping fog of depression…….

5 03 2008

In my media addled brain I’m going through the memories of our relationship like a montage at the end of series. When the soundtrack kicks in it all gets too much for what more apt a backing track could there be in Joy Division “Love Will Tear Us Apart?”
It all gets too much and I can feel myself welling up like some menstrual Bridget Jones. This is the North, men don’t share feelings and don’t show weakness in front of the enemy (which is everyone judging by the massive chip on some peoples’ shoulders.)
I’m sitting here fighting back the tears, pretending to cope and carrying on in a dead end job that barely pays a living wage and is as intellectually challenging as an article on shoes in Now magazine by Jade Goody.
I’m scared, I’m scared that the only chance of real love in my life is slipping out of my fingers. I don’t want to go back to casual relationships with distant and haughty middle class girls , don’t want to be going out with somebody just because they’ve shown an interest in me and I need to dip my wick but I can’t go on with somebody who is out to destroy themselves and take me to hell with them.
I have to bail and it kills me inside to do so but sometimes you just have to let go. Round and round inside my head I chant the mantra “I can’t carry on like this” to the point where it is all I can think about as I stare blankly into space at my desk. I can feel it creeping up on me, the depression that is. I can feel its sickly tentacles reaching into me and my appetite (for most things) going. I can feel that oppressive blanket of self-doubt and hopelessness drawing over me. I can feel the mental fog clouding into my brain even though I’m jacked up on smart pills. In this dull grey I have the same thoughts going round and round my head like a broken record.