I’m watching Larry King live and they’re talking about depression and bipolar disorder and the extent to which they’re much more prevalent in our society than in others, and in recent years versus past years. Amidst all of the talk of genetics, medications, evolution, etc., I find it shocking that nobody seems to think that depression may simply be a symptom of a larger deviation from human needs that results largely from modernity and capitalism. Humans are not designed for:

– Socially dictated lack of intimate emotional contact with other human beings
– Socially dictated lack of a stable social universe
– Demystification of the objective, commoditization of the subjective
– Near total lack of sovereignty over almost any aspect of life

How funny. A person has zero people that he can depend on, zero people that he is sure will even be in his life six months from now, no god, no sense of his own labor (his entire productive world seems to funnel into the boss’s office; all of the time of his life into the abstract that is The Company), and the knowledge that no matter what he is doing or desires to do, The State can at any time do anything to him that it likes, for any reason whatsoever. But he is wrong to be depressed; we should be sure to drug him to the extent that none of these things seem bad any longer, so that he’ll be able to go right back to his lonesome, exploited, impersonal life and work extremely hard for The Company within the rubric of The State.

People!

Depression is not a disease. Depression is the sadness, found among the intelligent, at the pitiful, disconnected, invalidated, ego-sublimated state in which we all live here in capitalist modernity.

I am the most alone person in the world tonight.

And everyone who I tell that to will, in order to demonstrate just how alone I am, tell me that either it’s because a) I’m selfish or b) I should leave my girlfriend.

The fact that nobody understands the extent to which neither a) nor b) is true for me demonstrates how little they know about me.

I feel so alone I would kill for a hug from someone who just loved me for me right now, no strings, no complications, nowhere to be in ten minutes, no advice about what to do with my career or my love life, just a fucking hug.

It has been so god damn long since I had one of those…

Help me. Somebody, please.

I am so totally alone. I’m despondent. I’m in danger. Everyone thinks that they’re there for me, that they care… my family, my friends, my girlfriend… and I can’t even explain, to any of them, why that’s not the case.

I can’t explain anything to anyone without tearing apart my world even more, but I can’t afford to do that right now. I’m alone enough. But the fact that I can’t tell anyone why I can’t even talk to them just makes me more alone.

I can’t tell anyone anything and still keep them in my life. And I can’t lose anyone right now. But without telling them, I also can’t talk to them, because what they say just makes things worse.

Everyone is right. My friends are right. My girlfriend is right. My parents are right. Only I am wrong. But I don’t care. I am wrong and it’s my life, so I can be wrong if I want. Anyone who really cares about me will just let me be wrong, will be there for me while I’m wrong, will love me regardless and not try to change me, but will instead just love me.

But there is nobody like that. There are ten million people who think they’re like that. Of all the people in the world right now, I really wish I could talk to you, A–ie. I wish I was back in I-House and you were dropping by #424 to have a drink and a few light, friendly words, and I could say exactly what I felt and you would know exactly what I meant and instead of advice, you would just tell me that things were rough but you understood why they were they way they were.

I undervalued our friendship. I’m sorry. It’s because we’re almost exactly the same person (sorry, L–ia, there’s someone else who’s more “the same person as me” than you, by a million miles).

Maybe I don’t care anymore. Maybe I should be hospitalized.

I am cutting like mad tonight, and it’s not helping. I am drinking like mad tonight, and it’s not helping. I can’t face tomorrow. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out. I want out.

Right now, in me, since 8.00 PM (i.e. last 6 hrs.) there is:

– An entire 12-pack of Fosters Beer
– Three cans of Riebenbach 5.8% Ale
– More than half a bottle (~400ml) Gilbey’s Gin
– The last (~100ml) of my Alandia Strong 68 Absinthe
– Five Djarum Black Clove Cigarettes
– Two Swisher Sweets Cigars
– An entire pack of American Spirit Lights
– Two 24 oz. Rock Star Energy Drinks
– Six Pseudoephedrine Hydrochloride 60mg tablets

Why the hell am I still conscious and still typing 100wpm, and what can I do to fix that?
Do I have to take a bat to my head or climb into the oven and set it to broil?
Please, just let me fucking escape from all of this already!
What magic does it take to render oneself unconscious?

Oh, for the good old days of crystal + demerol.
Time to hit the street.