Are you an unhappy person? I mean repeatedly, or even periodically, unhappy? I am. I have this thing going on and on with depression. It really feeds on me. My folks say it’s because of jeans. No wait a minute, that didn't sound right. Oh yea, well it was genes they rightly said. And I think that has a lot to do with the way why I feel miserable. It happens even in good times. And I don't mean general unhappiness, which can be pinpointed, rationally thought about and shot down like it happens in the draw scenes in the Wild Wild West movies.
Few months back, I did a pretty big story for our Metro pages on the high rise of suicide cases. I had to pose sometimes as a phoney suicide attempter, calling these so-called help line numbers. Some were very fucked up and rigid and, even if I weren’t such a case, I would have still killed myself trying to communicate with them. But the one's I didn't pose as one, there was one consultant on the phone that gave me all the quotes I needed and in the end. Threw a few harmless questions, more like he was interviewing me. I answered, almost as though I was getting used to being questioned. One story before that I was doing on Drug Rehabs in Delhi, and there I was posing as a junky.
In the end of the conversation, he felt that I did have a suicide intention buried in the layers of my conscience. But for him, almost everyone does. Its only the limit of this intention that varies from people to people.
Anyway, so I am an extremely unhappy person from time to time. This often spurts to me being very reclusive and keeps me aloof.
Every time I hear something about myself, I am often filled with trepidation whether what I'm going to hear about myself will be harming in any sense. And then, any criticism rubs bad on me. I am not even like my Old Man, who always appears to be nonchalant when he hears criticism, when he sits in his bookshop -- it’s the best in Delhi -- and I respect him for that.
He sulks, but sometimes. I often sulk, but deep down I always seem to be brooding. My day can be even fucked up with a small headache while getting up in the mornings. Its kinda sad scene, you know.There's one respite and that's reading. But I get upset knowing that I haven't read enough. Sometimes I just imagine things. Beautiful things. Sweeter things. More like a Marquez land that I slip into. That's a really cool place to be. The women, the legends, and the sheer humaness in its fantasy – its really cool.
Few months back, I did a pretty big story for our Metro pages on the high rise of suicide cases. I had to pose sometimes as a phoney suicide attempter, calling these so-called help line numbers. Some were very fucked up and rigid and, even if I weren’t such a case, I would have still killed myself trying to communicate with them. But the one's I didn't pose as one, there was one consultant on the phone that gave me all the quotes I needed and in the end. Threw a few harmless questions, more like he was interviewing me. I answered, almost as though I was getting used to being questioned. One story before that I was doing on Drug Rehabs in Delhi, and there I was posing as a junky.
In the end of the conversation, he felt that I did have a suicide intention buried in the layers of my conscience. But for him, almost everyone does. Its only the limit of this intention that varies from people to people.
Anyway, so I am an extremely unhappy person from time to time. This often spurts to me being very reclusive and keeps me aloof.
Every time I hear something about myself, I am often filled with trepidation whether what I'm going to hear about myself will be harming in any sense. And then, any criticism rubs bad on me. I am not even like my Old Man, who always appears to be nonchalant when he hears criticism, when he sits in his bookshop -- it’s the best in Delhi -- and I respect him for that.
He sulks, but sometimes. I often sulk, but deep down I always seem to be brooding. My day can be even fucked up with a small headache while getting up in the mornings. Its kinda sad scene, you know.There's one respite and that's reading. But I get upset knowing that I haven't read enough. Sometimes I just imagine things. Beautiful things. Sweeter things. More like a Marquez land that I slip into. That's a really cool place to be. The women, the legends, and the sheer humaness in its fantasy – its really cool.
posted by jairaj at Tuesday, November 07, 2006
8 Comments:
unhappiness and loneliness is every man's (and woman's) bane jerry. happens to the best of us!
i agree with what serendipity says. when i feel very low, i either divert my thots and attention to something else or keep aside for my self-pity session. i get bored of being sad and feeling sad so undoubtebaly, i am back to being happy in no time.
hmmmmmm
moonstruck as always....
nothing wrong in being depressed from time to time..if i am upset about something, I like to wallow in it (no, n ot the kind that invites sympathy or pity from others) but more the kind that throws into sharp relief the happier times...guess you gotta be really sad to be really happy...
serendipity: thank you. was wondering why the woman went into a bracket.
mizfit: i shall try that sometime. although my depression feeds from one tiny thought to another. it never tires. but yes, it fizzles with time.
zaphod: i think i relate with you the best. i try the same method, i wouldn't say I'm happy but i'm complacent.
when you get tired of being tired,that's when you give yourself the swift mental kick you need to snap out of it...by you I mean me
I know what you mean. exactly
we're all unhappy from time to time. it's also an age thing, at your age i routinely enjoyed marinating in my misery. dunno why but somehow at 19-20 it's just cooler to be angry and glum. now at 23, (oh how the years have passed!) i feel too old to waste time being unhappy.
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