Disclaimer : Any kind of mental illness is a personal hell for the sufferer. There are many kinds, and they know no boundary when it comes to the person they affect. Race, religion (or a lack thereof), socioeconomic status, gender, sexuality - unfortunately all of these things mean nothing. That does not mean that your troubles are insignificant if compared to those beyond your suffering. We all need help with this, and on some days we may need it more than other days.

Part three of the 'Depression Trilogy', my good natured yet somehow slightly tongue in cheek at attempting to pass off my mental illness as some sort of Hollywood movie series, starring some big name actor, produced by some big name studio, et cetera, etc.

There might be some bleeding over from the previous articles, because living with it, does, to quite a degree, involve hiding it as well. The two are intertwined, like hands clasping one another, the spaces in between the fingers defined by and unto themselves.

Straight to the chase, then.

Hiding it is tough.

There will be no eloquence, no grand spinning of phrases and words. Well at least not as much as there usually is.

It's tough.

Those two words suffice. I really don't see the charm of Halloween - apart from cheap candy at Target the day after - because I have a mask to be worn everyday, caught in an endless Catch 22 situation - if I tell people what's really going on, they may be scared and not talk to me anymore. Maybe the honesty is too brutal. The reason I have that fear is because it's happened before. But surely, hope springs eternal? Maybe this person may understand. But even if they do, what then? I can't be sad in their presence forever - I might lose their company. Should I truly let them in, let them see that, my mind is a dark place and I am, unabashedly, a dark person sometimes? And wishing I could vocalize all this, and only to say 'nah, it's just been a long week', while secretly hoping that that innocuous question will lead to a big question and answer session, a much needed cathartic event, that then strengthens the friendship, whether in person or through text.

It is for holding out that hope that I somehow remain optimistic. Maybe if I let you in, you'll reciprocate too, and maybe I can help you with what's going on, to the best of my ability.

Change is the only constant.

Let's not get all philosophical here. The fact is, people leave each other's lives. Either by circumstance or by choice, you sometimes get pushed out or push people out of your life. Depression constantly tells you, playing both angel and devil on your shoulder, that you're the reason they left.

It's good that they left.

Is it really? Because I remember telling you that YOU were why they did.

Quiet, hushed undertones - a whisper only meant for you. I do hold out hope, though, that they were there because they were meant to be, and left because they were meant to leave, like actors leaving the stage because their lines in the play are now complete. Maybe it's true, maybe it isn't. It helps me sleep at night. Or sometimes, more often than not, keep me awake through it.

You deserve this hell for a present because your past wasn't much better.

The circular reasoning of time. The Greeks must have been onto something there, after having figured out philosophy, triangles, and many things, when they coined the sigil of Oroborous, the circular snake who consumes his own tail.

Inextricably linked, forever beginning and ending at itself. Life isn't that way, however - we move forwards through the years, we can only look back and sometimes, rather painfully, recall the worst things we have been through. Now imagine that rather unpleasant sensation, only that it is the reality of your mind. Everyday. Each moment, as you somehow trundle on through the activities of the day, wishing that you were literally anywhere else, no matter where you are. Reading poetry instead of sitting in that class. Driving somewhere instead of walking around campus.

(despite how safe doing both those things together looks below, you probably shouldn't.)

However, underneath that veneer of low self esteem, cynicism and a good bit of unhealthy emotional self-delusion and rationalization, I remain a child. I retain a bit of wonder every now and then, and a bit of blunder too. Ask my dad, he'll tell you there's more blunder than wonder, but then I think all dads are that way. I still want to make and keep friends for as long as possible, part of me doesn't really want college to end. Part of me wishes I was a kid again, so I'd be free of this, but then part of me had always suspected that I'd had this even when I was a kid, so maybe I'm better off being capable of abstractions of thought so I can go outside the fishbowl and look into my own mind, I think. I don't know.

Well, much like the election, that shall conclude itself by the end of this day, this is the last of the Depression articles. I might do another batch down the road, although right now, I think we can all agree that the only batch we should be getting, are ones comprising of cookies.

Thank you for reading.

Have a blessed week ahead, irrespective of religious belief or a lack thereof.

May you find peace and happiness.