A Pillar of Salt

Grind_'n'_Throb

Say I managed a work crew consisting of a violent sociopath, a chronic junkie, and a moralizing douchebag, but I’m not allowed to fire a single one without just cause. As uncomfortable as this situation sounds, handling sociopath and the junkie would be easy. I know who they are and what they’re likely to do. Sooner than later, both the will self-destruct in predictable ways, and if I’m lucky, they’re last moments as employees will be spent at each other’s throats. But what about the pontificating douche? That individual would require one wary eye at all times while our day-to-day interaction would fill me with loathing. Why? Simply put, your run-of-the-mill moral soldier tends to be wound tight with repressed desire and hypocrisy. This compels them to lash out at anyone who isn’t as miserable as themselves. Sooner or later, people like this tend to snap, and when they do…

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The pain inside, I Cry.

Minna Von Walden

The pain inside, the sorrow, it hurts so much. I want to scream, I cry. It’s gone on too long, I’ve felt this for so long. I need a release, I need the pain to stop. I need a distraction from this inner pain. I cry, I cry, I cry. I squeeze my thighs, my fingertips sink into them. I feel the tips of my nails piercing the skin, the pain inside still hurts more. I can’t survive this pain again, I can’t go through this again. I cry, I cry, I cry, and I drag my nails across my thighs. The pain on the outside, I feel it more, more than the pain inside.

Lines on my skin, from my own fingernails, lines still stinging and bright red. Five lines on my right leg, five on my left. Ten lines, ten deep scratchesdistracting me from the pain…

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Things that will Happen when You’re Depressed

The Ochre Muse

In a drought, there’s a kind of bacteria that leaches into the drinking water and makes everything taste like earth. Your coffee: mud. Your cooking: sand. Depression is like that: Ash and silt. You can taste it in everything, but the first thing you’ll notice is the nothingness. Everything will be flat and dead—not dead enough to be tolerable. Just dead enough to remind you that there used to be something vital in you.

Your friends will keep showing up at the door. You’ll answer because you feel you owe them. Isolation and numbness go together like blackness and midnight, so you’ll ask them to leave early because there’s dinner to cook and a presentation to prepare for tomorrow’s meeting. Then you’ll go to bed without eating instead.

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One week, two weeks, three weeks will pass. You’ll start drinking. You’ll start chain smoking. You’ll stop reading your emails…

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Depression Doesn’t Make You Stupid

The Ochre Muse

(Trigger warning: suicide)

Of all the idiocy around common thinking about suicide, nothing annoys me more than this little gem:

Suicide is a permanent solution to a temporary problem.

Depression is not simple enough to be fixed by a clichéd trope. Mental illness never is, but I hate that line primarily because being suicidal doesn’t make you stupid. It doesn’t make you think death is impermanent for god sakes.

Suicide is kind of a major decision </understatement>, so by the time someone starts asking how to die instead of why, they’ve already taken a long, hard look at all the awfulness involved. They know it’s permanent. They’re comfortable with that fact. Its permanence is soothing when you’re in that much pain, so please put your cute saying away somewhere muggy and dark where nobody needs to see it again.

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I’ll never understand what makes lay people think they…

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