So you know how in life there are winners and losers? And how it’s all survival of the fittest and last man standing wins? It’s just a dog eat dog world and everyone’s out for their own and [insert negative world views here]?

Here is some unsettling news: everyone and everything dies. It’s sad. Maybe. Or not? Regardless, it’s true. And what does that mean? We are all losers! There’s no such thing at winning at life because ultimately, everybody meets the same end. Aiming for a more cushy death scene may be worth your while, if that’s your thing. Or perhaps a more flashy one. Just don’t let that obscure the honest, awful truth that the odds are always against you and while you may not know your expiration date, it’s somewhere on your body or hiding out there in the world. Just a pleasant surprise lying in wait.

When people spend all their time trying to one up each other or chase some goal, it’s tempting to be all “Like, why? Whatchu doing that for friend?” Similarly when they’re spending all their time with people and forming bonds or some strange shit like that. But of course the answer is obvious. They’re bored as fuck. Because really, everyone needs something to do while their alive, and those things to do are arguably about as good as any others. And so if you’re doing some of that, by all means, go with whatever keeps you occupied.

And when you’re doing well at whatever you’re doing. Getting whatever the getting is that you’re going for. Fantastic! And when you’re not doing well at whatever you’re doing. That’s fine too. When you feel tempted to look over at someone else’s life path and plans, and be a judgey Justin, totally do that. Although, remember that yours is about as stupid, so comparing is pointless. Similarly, if you think that someone’s getting a little too far in their goals and perfect for your tastes, trip them up. No wait. Don’t. Because that just makes you a total dick, and it doesn’t really matter if those people achieve their goals anyway, because they’re going to die. Might as well spend that effort figuring your own shit out and why you’re such a miserable, sabotagey bitch.

It’s tempting to think that because we all lose, life has no purpose, or meaning, or whatever whatever whatever. Yet that’s missing the point. Because you are alive. And it’s tempting to think that in the end, it doesn’t really matter… Linkin Park you seamstresses of song, you. And that again, is missing the point. Because life is less about the ending part, and more about the whole living part, which takes up a lot of time, and has a lot of stuff in it. Also meaning is overrated.

So you’re a loser. Worst fears confirmed. Good thing is you’re in bad company. Everyone’s a loser. And yet, right now, at this moment, we are all alive. What to do? What to do?

So remember how you’re a manipulative asshole? And although sometimes you do decent things for people, it’s all only for your own benefit, and this makes you an evil dark soul with no hope of redemption?

Laaaazzzzyyyyy. That’s bullshit you tell yourself so that you don’t have to put the effort into the redeeming. Intense morality debates aside, calling yourself evil is a cop out. What makes you a jerk isn’t some intrinsic permanent characteristic, it’s that you do really assholish things and then tell yourself “It’s fine,” as opposed to telling yourself, “Hey, that was kind of a dick move. Maybe I want to reflect on that, and then not to do that.” Or “Maybe I want to reflect on that, and then do it some more because acting like a total dick is awesome!!!” You own your actions, so have at it, as long as you’re prepared for the consequences. Oh and okay with emulating the little fuckers who contributed to your depression in the first place.

And this may suck for you to hear, but the second you do things for other people, that makes you automatically a more “decent person.” Everyone is a selfish cunt. Actually. Like actually. It’s inevitable that we all end up doing things that are in our own self-interest because typically that’s what it takes to ensure base level survival. At times people break the pattern because they have other self-serving motives, like being all cool and heroic, or being all self-sacrificing for their family, or being a beautiful shiny martyr for their community, or just randomly happening on an action that isn’t totally shitty for other people. Damn. This was meant to talk about why people are always selfish assholes…

Guess that gets to the heart of it! People are often selfish assholes. And yet, they sometimes are less selfish, and sometimes, because they are fucking insane, they do selfless acts. These acts may come out of some self-serving impulse to be “special” in some way or another, and maybe you’ve done some of that. Or maybe you’ve done something decent because it made people think you were all cool, and then that image and representation benefitted you.

Wertever. Fact is you did something, and someone else benefitted. You’re just not as awful as you’d hope to be. Tragedy. Just because you do things for yourself, that doesn’t mean you’re the only one who gains, and often you can match it up with doing things for other people at the same time. Not to mention that if you’re really torn up about how you are a selfish asshole, that in itself is a sign of you wanting to be something else. Of you wanting to do more stuff that’s for you, and also more stuff that’s for other people too. Just that wanting is pretty decent. Think about it. If you really were completely selfish, you wouldn’t even notice the fact that you could be doing more for other people. And really, this means you should do even more for yourself. Because the more you can get a handle on your life and your shit, the more your misery is managed, and the more attention you’ll have for other shit, like doing stuff that is for other people in addition to yourself. And rescuing pandas. Never. Forget. Pandas.

So yeah you’re a selfy selfy selfyish person. And you do all these things only for yourself. You also do all these things that hurt other people. You also do all these things that help other people. Basically, you do quite a great deal of stuff, even when you don’t do very much at all. If you’re concerned about whether or not you’re selfless, focus on your self more. Figure out your head, and then find ways to do things that are about other people’s heads as well.

So you know how sometimes it seems like someone’s finally going to actually say something genuinely helpful to you? Like finally just give you that beautiful, clear, kind support that you’ve been dreaming of and searching for all along? And then, right at the end of that truly well-framed, cogent, heartfelt remark, comes, the… “But.”

Fuck but. Fuck it. Fuck it. Fucking fuck it. It’s amazing how people seem to think that a depressed person needs the negative qualifiers. As though an individual who spends all their fucking time thinking of everything negative about anything anyone says to them needs assistance coming up with rebuttals.

And the second, the “but” is added to the end of a sentence it invalidates everything that comes before it. Because now you’re focusing on the shit that sucks, because surprise surprise, you’re all miserable and that’s just what you do.

Sometimes you can scream at these people, or tell them politely if you’re into that sort of thing, that you find their tendency to match their positive statements with a negative qualifier to be insufferable, and really damn irritating. Other times, you can’t. Or won’t. Still, you’ll let this shit slide and thus take these types of comments as insults rather than the mixed messages they are in their heartiest of messagey hearts.

And that’s a bit of a loss. Because really if you’re going to take the statement at all, you might as well take all of it. Recognizing that the “but” part has some bullshit you don’t really need to hear and also that the part that’s meant to be supportive, has some validity to it as well. Should you do that? Hm. Can you do that? Hm. Will you do that? Hm.

So qualified bullshit is fucking stupid and such. Yup. That’s about right. Seeing if you can strip anything not awful from those statements is useful given that you’re probably going to take in the negative parts whether you want to or not. Finding ways of telling people how those statements could be rephrased or reframed into purely supportive remarks is also an idea. Then again, communication sucks.

So you know how you’ve got like tons and tons of things and options and people and stuff in your life that you should feel really grateful for? And yet sometimes, the giving thanks seems a little out of reach what with the misery, guilt, and general depression blah obscuring most other emotions? Leaving you with that oh so eternal question… Fake it?

Yes. “Fake it”. Or you know, “pretend.” Or be “insincere.” And all those other things that mean fuck it and lie to express an emotion that you may not be so sure you’re actually going through. This inauthenticity may make your inner hipster cringe, and may cause you to feel you are losing sight of your “youness.” In some cases, you have to wonder if those little ungracious parts of you need all that much preserving. Still, these are valid concerns.

And here are some valid reasons to not give a fuck about them. For one, gratitude is beautiful and unique much like people, except for the beautiful part. Meaning, if you want to find a way of expressing your only minimally sincere thanks in a manner that is distinctly you, that’s something, and fuck how other people react to it. Ha.

For another, people say shit they don’t mean all the time, and no one really fucking cares. It’s really annoying. If you don’t want to be one of those people who does that, cool don’t be. And yet, if you are having some gracious thoughts, and you’re just keeping them inside because you’re not sure about the “right” way to say it or you’re awkward or this or that, well then you’re being a whole other kind of annoying person that doesn’t say shit that they do mean.

But then, why bother with it at all? If you’re only feeling it a little, or really not at all, or you know it’s there glimmering somewhere in a dusty cobwebbed corner of your dark black soul and just hasn’t quite sparked into full force flames of exuberant appreciation… There was a point here. Hang on. Right. Gratitude is a currency. You can give it to people in exchange for stuff, and then that stuff has more value. And like how sometimes you may not understand why people value sock monkeys, or old movie tickets, or ancient Chinese pottery, or trading cards, or colorful silk scarves, or affection of all things, as long as you understand that people do value it, you can repay them for whatever.

So you can just let the moments where you think “ah some gratitude would be prime here” just slip by because you aren’t really feeling it. And also you can realize that the fact you noticed the moment at all is a sign that you’ve probably got some tiny warm embers stuck in your heart hearth after all. If you feel like expressing that, good for you. Regardless, it is pretty neat that by being appreciative of something, you can give it additional value. Also weird.

Oh and it’s Thanksgiving here in America. So… Yeah. That.

So you know how you’ve got a lot of options for stuff? Like jobs, eating, sexing, schooling, relationshiping, periodicling, arting, conquering, etc. etc.? And how this should make you super happy to be super blessed and like super excited about how many super opportunities you have access to?

Ha ha. Ha ha. Ha ha. That’s not how it works. Having more options is miserable. It is anxiety producing, and fucking miserable. Because, then you have to make dun dun dun: decisions. And decisions, can be “wrong” and be “mistakes” and then you’re stupid and not perfect because you make “bad” decisions. Oh wait. Who gives a fuck? If you’re alive, you’re going to do some stupid shit and some less stupid shit. Then you’ll have to figure out how to deal with that. Such and such.

Sometimes you have a bunch of options, and you still manage to choose the shitty ones. Like the good ones are there, you know they’re there, and you still choose the shitty ones. Why? Well for one thing, when people get depressed we may prefer certainty over ambiguity and so the concrete knowledge of bad stuff more than the possibility of good stuff. If you know something is shitty, that is more comforting when compared to something that “might be” good, because it also might be the worst thing ever. Also sometimes people choose the shitty things, because we like fucking ourselves over… Yeah.

And the thing about many options, is that it means you don’t ever get to feel happy about the one you took. Because you’re busy comparing it to the ones you could have taken. And since you don’t know if those options were good or bad, because you didn’t take them, you can torture yourself by imagining that they were soooo much better than the one you did decide on. Maybe you’ll even decide to switch, and you’ll just keep switching, and always thinking that something out there is better than what you’ve got and if you could just grab it, then you’d finally feel like you’d made the “right choice.”

The way to handle this? Is to know that everything sucks. No really. Everything. Every option has its negatives, and that goes for the ones that you decide on. Still, the real sense of success, and the knowledge that you made the right choice comes from when you face troubles and triumph over them. And when you encounter the hitches and fuck ups, finding ways to manage them, grow from them, and get stronger because of them. Sticking with your decision, is something to be proud of in and of itself. Provided that it’s not fucking you up. If it’s fucking you up… Might want to reassess. Ha ha. Exceptions.

So while it may seem like it should be awesome to have tons of options: it’s not. Being afraid that there’s something better out there is pretty tormentous. Knowing that it might be true, and yet the choices you make are still the ones you made, and you’ll get something from that, is okay. Knowing that as long as you’re alive you can find ways to change course is okay. And knowing you took advantage of any opportunity at all, tried it out, and are figuring it out as you go, is okay and beyond.

So you know how “substances” come in all shapes and sizes? Like recreational, proscribed, everyday varieties, delicious things, and many other sorts? And being the miserable little depressive you are, some of these substances call out and beckon for you to use them?

Substances are your friends. And like your friends some of them are way fun, and fuck you up after you play with them, and other ones are less fun, and also fuck you up after you play with them. Then there are a few that make you feel better for a bit, before letting you down again. And on occasion, there’s a couple that help lift you up and support you as you get back on your feet so that you can kick your depression in the face. Then hug it because it deserves love too, despite being a whiny little bitch.

People like to put drugs in different categories. The biggest one being that whole “legal versus illegal” thing. Still, as we all know, drugs of any type have effects and “side effects” which are really just effects that people typically don’t like as much. At the end of the day, these categories are only so useful, because they are made by people who are not you, and do not necessarily understand everything about you and how you operate.

Your body, is yours. Your mind, is yours. And you are the one that will bear the consequences of whatever substances you decide to intake. It can be hit or miss when you’re trying to find a balance in managing your misery, and people try out different techniques. That is what that is.

Challenge is when people don’t observe the outcomes of their little experiments, or ignore the outcomes that don’t fit with what they want reality to be. If a substance works for a bit, and then stops, that’s good to know. If a substance works for a bit, but also causes blah, eyes bleeding, blah blah, internal hemorrhaging, blah blah blah, alien invasions and such, that’s also good to know. And if after a time, a substance just isn’t really doing that much for you anymore, yet you find yourself doing it anyway, that’s important to note as well.

So substances are wondrously diverse and magical! And you may try different ones in your soul searching quest for reduced miserability. That happens. Paying attention to how your interactions with said substances develop and the results of those interactions is a thing to do. So do it.

So you know how you’ve got all these awesome memories of when everything was fucked? And they just play on a loop on repeat inside your head, and even though you’d love to “let them go” as so many unhelpful assholes advise, you just can’t seem to stop the cycles?

Thing is, those little side reels of your worst moments are actually the biggest help when managing your depression. Because when we remember painful moments, they’re the perfect guide for figuring out what our hurt triggers are, how we can avoid them going forward, and sometimes how we can set them right in the past. Our memories can serve as a map of our pain, and help us retrace our steps to figure out the causes of our current misery.

It goes back to this whole “forgive and forget” thing. Why? Remembering the things that hurt us is fucking useful. Particularly if those things are patterns of behavior in other people. Maybe you can’t or don’t want to put in the effort to making people change their need to take shit out on you, which makes sense, and remembering who those people are and what bullshit they do makes even more sense.

Now, sometimes it seems pointless because the trauma is so far past, that really, what the fuck can you do about it now? Well that’s just the thing, if you were actually done with it, and if the pain was gone, would you be carrying it around in your records? Psst. The answer is no. When you have memories of painful experiences, and you still feel something when you think of it, shame, humiliation, fear, anger, you’ve got an open wound. And if you want to get that to a sense of neutrality, you’ll need to find a way to reframe and move forward.

Sometimes that reframe is just a matter of laughing at yourself. Because fuck it. It’s funny to watch your past self mess up. Not in a mean way. Just in a “Yeah, that was pretty awful, glad that’s over” way. And sometimes you’ve got something meta going on with that memory, and really you’re hung up on that bully trash talking you because you felt like you had no voice, not just the act itself. Then the reframe may need some action, like a present day assertion of your voice and being heard and something something something. Point is. You’ve got those memories for a reason. Figure out why, and you can address some of that calcified pain you’ve got saved up in those memory banks.

So yeah the bad memories are… bad. And they’re not necessarily going to get any better. Still, holding the frames up to the light and taking a good look at them can give you some clues on how to manage and possible mediate the misery. That’s something. It’s quite a lot actually.

So you know how even though you have absolutely no fucking clue what you’re doing, you still want to tell everyone else what to do? Sometimes you even feel the need to write posts and posts of ideas on “how to” blah blah blah when all the while you know that you could poke holes in your own arguments in a heartbeat?

Thump Thump. Thump Thump. Do you hear that? It’s the sound of love. It’s also the sound of hypocrisy. Because ultimately, while we may say shit just as much to satisfy our own egos as to help another person out, ultimately, the choice to say anything at all is a sign that we care.

Because really, even if we had all the answers, we could just say fuck it and walk away. We could take our answers and run, feeling all toasty and warm in our own enlightenment. Instead we look around and see tons of bullshit. We know how it got there and we know what it takes to fix it. And yet, we also know that we’re fucked as hell, and the second we open our mouths to say “Hey guys… How about-” Someone will smack us in the face with a “Who are you God? Fuck you. Here’s a list of your flaws.” And since we can’t handle that, because it hurts, we sit with our mouths shut and keep the answers in the shadows.

And so we need to be perfect to say anything at all. We need to hide all our damage, so that no one can judge us back. Then they just have to accept what we say as gospel, with grace and gratitude. Only problem is that keeping wounds from the sunlight leads to those infections that produce the depression, and so our desire to help others, hurts us. We desperately need to avoid looking the hypocrite in order to get our message out, and yet, slowly we become more hypocritical as our inner darkness grows.

What to do? What to do? Oh! Got it! Be a fucking hypocrite and own it like a sexy bitch. Strut that hypocrisy all over the place, and when people call you on it, call them back. “Fuck bitch doesn’t want help. Don’t fucking be here. Leave.” Because it’s a big world, and if people don’t want to stand near you while you proselytize they can go someplace else. And even if they do stay, they don’t need to take advice from a dirty hypocrite, they can go figure it out on their own. When people bitch you back, it’s typically that they’re either jellus because they thought the same thing and didn’t say it, or they’re crying out for help and only know how to do it with fingernails.

So say what you want even if you are healing your own hurts on the side. Everyone’s imperfect. If there are angels among us, they’re very good at hide and seek. In the mean time, we make do with the role models we’ve got, flaws and all. Share your love even if it is hypocrisy. Better than letting the hydra hate grow additional heads.

So you know how it shouldn’t be possible to be too awesome? Or too beautiful? Or too smart? Or too genius at foozball? And yet somehow, no matter what you’re good at, your depression finds a way to make you feel like shit about it?

Either you think you’re not as amazing at ballerinaing as some other person, and that they’ll always be some perfect person out there who’s more amazing at it than you. Or, even better, you think you’re the best at chessing, but that means that everybody will hate you because you’re too good at it. Wait wait, and don’t forget, that no matter what you’re good at, you’ll always be worse than how you were in the past. Note: unfortunately with physical skills in particular, at a certain point, this is true in terms of competitive ability. Hitting the “peak” so to speak.

And all of that is true! No matter how awesome you are, there’s always a downside! Or many! Isn’t that exciting! Yes actually, because it means that surprise surprise, everything is a trade off and sometimes there’s positives and sometimes there’s negatives. And why is that a good thing? Because remember kids, just because there are tons of bad things, that doesn’t mean that the good things have no weight. Maybe not always equal, but often, what you give and what you get level out. So when you’re getting, take it, and fuck guilt. Because soon enough it’ll ebb.

Peaking, is the most hard to get past. Because then you know for a fact that you’re past your prime. And you feel like you’ve lost your awesomeness and you’re just reliving the “glory days.” Thing is… You don’t need to relive them. They’re there, chilling, in the past and you get to own those accomplishments even in the present. Typically if you’re hyper focused on your past achievements it’s not just because they were awesome, it’s also because the present isn’t doing so great. Focusing on nostalgia, the past, those things, is fun on occasion, but when you’re doing it to the extreme it’s often a sign that either your brain is trying to make you dig up a trauma that you need to address, or you’re not taking care of finding things to make your current self happier.

And when you’re flying high, sometimes you can see what’s coming up on the horizon. You know that while right now you’re doing stellar, soon enough, you’ll come down, and possibly it’ll be a crash landing. That’s why preparing when you notice that shit is useful. Investing in some long-term happiness options, whether that’s in literal money, relationships, or sustainable hobbies, is a way to help yourself rest assured that you’ll have some things to feel good about. Not to mention you can always share your experiences with lonelies looking to learn from your greatness. If it’s too late and you’ve already hit ground… Oh wait, there’s no such thing as hitting bottom! You can always be more miserable! Do some damage control and figure out how to be a little better off than where you’re at.

So being the best sucks. Having something to strive for is exciting, and fills us with energy. When you hit mastery, or are just doing awesome in general, there’s a lot of navigation that comes with that. And that’s a challenge in and of itself. Luckily, you’re alive, and bored, so figuring that shit out is just more shit for you to do as a distraction.

So you know how perfect is just so… perfect? And you’re just so… Not?

That sucks. Who cares? Perfect is just a bullshit concept we create to fuck ourselves over and remind us of all the ways we suck. You can never be perfect. The second you fill one gap, you’ll notice another one. The second you finally clean one spot, you’ll realize that everything else is dirty by comparison.

And don’t you love it when people use perfect as an excuse for being a dick to you? “Sorry, but I mean, no one is perfect.” Is code for, “Your concerns are totally valid, but I’m a lazy shit, so instead of addressing them, I’m just going to talk about how I can’t be awesome ALL the time.”

Oh wait that sucks? That’s cool. You know what sucks more? Constantly finding your every little flaw and cutting yourself into pieces attempting to remove it. It’s irritating when people invalidate your concerns. Still, even if someone does recognize what you’re saying, and that maybe they should not be totally fucking you over, the fact may remain, that they are imperfect, and they are lazy, and they just don’t give a shit. Worst part is, they’re probably happier for it.

You don’t want to be the asshole going around being all “I’m imperfect. I ran over your cat. That’s just life.” And that’s awesome. Don’t be. Be the not so much of asshole going “I’m imperfect. I ran over your cat. That’s just life. And I’m really fucking sorry.” Because sometimes we use “perfect” as a way to give up on ourselves and on managing our depression. Just like the assholes that suck, when we realize that we’ll never be completely clean, we stop even aiming to improve the things we can improve. Knowing that we’ll always fall short of “perfect.”

So yeah don’t be an asshole. Or do be an asshole. Either way, know that you’re not perfect, that sucks, and it doesn’t mean you’re done. You’re only done when you’re dead. In the meantime, you keep growing, imperfectly all the while.