My psychiatrist and my parents say that I'm depressed. I don't think I am.
Now maybe my idea of depression is different, but being depressed is when you are sad for a very long time and nothing can make you happy anymore. You see, I am always happy. But whenever I get sad, I get REALLY REALLY sad. And when this happens, nothing else matters and I just feel so goddamn tired. It's as if I'm not really there anymore and I'm just a user sitting behind a screen and watching life unfold in front of me.
It's strange and I can't really explain it properly so I'm most likely not making any sense. But when these waves of unwanted sadness is causing disruption in my life. I either get so angry I could kill someone, or I get so sad I could kill myself. One time I got so angry that I almost smashed my Chinese teacher's head in with a rock when I was twelve. Another time I was so angry at my dog I kicked and hit it until it yelped and ran away when I was nine.
When I got sad once, I almost tried to kill myself. I didn't turn up at work that day and walked for around 4kilometers, up and down windy hills. I didn't understand, I was running and then I was crawling and then somehow I ended up lying in a park just a few blocks away from the highway. I had pills with me. 60 of them and was going to take them all. Until I looked around and reckoned falling from a building would have the least chance of survival, so that was a better option. But I didn't because my parents were going nuts, my friends were talking to me and trying to get me to stop. I don't even remember posting anything online and when I asked the one person to show me what I posted, she wouldn't even look at me. She doesn't even say hi to me anymore and just ignores me. I don't understand.
But I'm not depressed. I'm not. It's these frustrating feelings that swarm up uninvited randomly that drives me to do irrational things. Say horrible things to people, and when I hurt others I enjoy it.
I don't understand any of it.