she said, in thetoiletpapers, that on the bad days she’ll think about all the things she had planned to do, had wanted to do, still wants to do. she’ll fill her mind with plans for a better day when she wasn’t feeling like this.
it is a symptom of depression to think that you don’t have a long time on this earth. it’s either a self-made ultimatum (i’m not going to be here in three years’ time) or it’s just a bleak acknowledgement to the suicide demon and just how powerful she is.
as uncomfortable and alarming as this sounds, it’s pretty reassuring actually. to think that i’m not going to be around in three years’ time lightens the weariness of existence by a helluva lot.
it is comforting to think about the life i’m expected to have: to get married, have children and a job that work in perfect harmony, and watch my siblings get married and do the same.
that’s the saddest thing, envisioning a life where i’m not there for my siblings.
what i’m thinking now is that maybe publishing this grim deadline to my death here is a cry for help. but i know it’s not. i know that, at the least, the deadline is a pacifier for the suicide demon when she gets particularly disruptive: “i refuse to end my life now, i’ll do it in three years’ time so just survive this and get on and after three years this will all end’.
the nutritionist is a spoken word poem. she talks about how it’s people’s insistence that you live and suffer with them that keeps you alive. i think that’s selfish and incorrect and deeply insulting to have to suffer because someone else will suffer with my death.
yeah, this does sound selfish doesn’t it?
i don’t envision a way out of this. it’s struck me deeply.
i read will grayson, will grayson on sunday night. one of the wills is depressed. david levithan said that he wrote depressed will because in ya you get a lot of kids discovering that they’re suffering from depression but not what happens after and that what happens after is that this kid has to live with this illness for the rest of their lives.
sometimes i am like john green: so fucking astounded by existence. because i’ve been thinking about death a lot i’ve been thinking about how death might not end my existence. and how weird it was that i came out of nowhere. that im like this and that one day ill disappear.
i really like music. i really like playing music out loud. i think that apart from books i will love music. and anime, but that’s different a little.
a list of things i had planned to do, had wanted to do, still want to do
to go to my classes
they’re fucking lovely. i don’t know how to describe how lovely they are you see i thought studying english would be geeky but also boring because that was the difference for me with science and arts subjects: one made me feel sleepy at times while with the other i was constantly alive. but this english is so good it’s fucking addictive. in the future i want to go to my classes and love literature. you see, i guess that for me it’s the hunger for knowledge coupled with how much this knowledge affirms this sense of being alive and of humanity. with poetry we make music, with medieval literature we build our roots and with my favourite module we interrogate, to the death, the very idea of reading.
sometimes, when im feeling a certain type of sad, i put my headphones on the loudest it will go and go to sleep. the music helps calm my mind, or at least provide a distraction from all the thoughts i’m drowning under. it is, understandably, an emo thing to do.
since we’re going with classics, i want to travel. travelling as a 19 year old should be easy. but i’m a bengali 19 year old who comes from a pretty conservative family: “we travel together not with our friends in this family”.
fuck that. my friend’s taking me somalia to eat pomegranates.
read all the books
if there’s one thing binge-reading will grayson, will grayson has taught me it’s that i love reading with both body and mind. and that reading is a nostalgic sort of medicine: it reminds me of who i once was and reminds me that i still have that same hunger even if everything tastes dull.
it’s funny cos there’s so many people in london who can’t claim they’ve been born and brought up here esp now that i’m in uni and i guess the more i pursue a life here the more people i’ll know who flock to london. this difference really cements the idea that london is my city because i see how all these people have started to adopt london as their city and it feels me with this need to gush about the city to them. i love it here. it’s got all the publishing houses and it’s got the city life i love and it’s got all the ugly people (and all the hot ones too). i wanna discover more about my home.
this is the ultimate goal. i want to get work experience, i want to smash my degree, i want to explore london, i want to write books all for this. this is a long time goal obviously but i want to stay w books forever. as much as i can.
be with my siblings
i want to see them grow up.