Not Depressed

I wrote a post titled ‘not-depression’ or something like that. Well I’m glad to say I’m no longer depressed. Or no longer in a not-depressed state. It’s so fucking tough but I tried and I wanted to cry and I felt all the fucking pain and I think I got through.

I did it alone! Not really, but to get out of that state you need a little bit of self-examination, a little introspection and a desire to grow as a human. All of which (and more) I tried and will continue to try. I just wish I’d done it earlier. Here’s the problem:

When I was in that depressed state I couldn’t do anything, I barely ate, slept, attended lectures, studied and now all that shit is coming back to slap me in the face. I’m behind on everything, so my grades will be as low as ever. There is no respite for me just because I was secretly battling whatever it was, no excuses or pass. So I will have to pay for my sins.

At least now, I’m in a better state of mind to deal with my problems, I’m a little equipped to handle life better.

And this time, I hope I do.

I’ll keep trying, I’ll keep going, I’ll try to love and be awesome. It’s all in a quest to be excellent.

On Moving On

It’s hard to get on with life. There’s so much shit that’s telling you; nay, screaming at you ‘IT’S NOT WORTH IT’! And what separates the Alan Schaafs and the Alex Ohanians from the profaneTruths is them hearing all that shit being screamed at them and yet they still want excellence. I feel there must be some sort of frustration, however little in their lives but they still persist and be awesome. Now, me on the other hand?

Uh, I think I might be going bald. I think I have gingivitis. I probably have arthritis. I can’t seem to learn anything. I don’t even know where to start trying to learn again.

And of all that shit, what upsets me the most or what causes me distress is the fact that I might be going bald. What type of absurd shit is that? That’s my mind.

Also I eat extremely unhealthy. And everyone says ‘Oh profaneTruth, all your problems could be fixed if you just try’. Well I don’t know how.

So I’m just going to have to keep up this show.

Dance for them, dance for them monkey.


On the upside, I transferred to a University and now I can’t seem to try, or manage my finances well. Which is frustrating. But yeah, new beginnings. Maybe my next post won’t be so shitty and depressing.


I’m not depressed, I feel it would be offensive to categorise myself as such when there are people out there who are genuinely and clinically depressed. I do however have this lingering sadness. Right when I laugh I get the thought ‘oh this won’t last, why even start’. What the fuck brain? Anyway, I know I’m ‘not’ depressed however I am ‘not-depressed’. I call it that because I’m not content, not happy, not sad, nor am I depressed, but I feel like I am the latter so I call it a variant of that, a lighter depression if you will. Not-depressed.


I’ve tried to explain this to people and they all look at me like I’m just looking for attention. I genuinely am not. Maybe it’s the way I try to explain it to them. This is my preferred method: ‘sometimes I feel like life is just not worth living, then 2 hours later, I can’t wait to see someone or something. I’m not bipolar, I’m well aware of my mood shifts and they aren’t in the extremes. Sometimes I’m happy, other times I’m really sad, but not because of things I don’t know about, it’s because of the things I’ve experienced or have to deal with that I get unhappy. I wish it wasn’t this way. I see the mountain I have to climb and just the thought of climbing it makes me weak.’ When I’m done with that long phrase they respond to me the same way I do to my brain: ‘what the fuck profanetruth’? Then I have to go deal with it by myself.


But, what they fail to realise is I recognize it, where the sadness comes from, why it’s there.


That’s what I mean when I say I’m not-depressed. Last night, I almost got into one of my moods when I realised just how much responsibility I have. No, I did get into one of my moods. It lasted for about 15 minutes. 15 minutes of me saying ‘I hate myself, I hate my life, this is too much for me to handle’. You know just the regular stuff normal people think. Anyway, about 15 minutes, I just said to myself, ‘fuck those thoughts’. Just like that, they disappeared. I didn’t even think that they’d disappeared. I was lying in my bed, crying without tears, loathing my life, then I just said it, ‘fuck those thoughts’, got up, made my self dinner, came back, watched some shows, listened to some music and slept.

Someone who is clinically depressed could not do that, their depression is much more severe, I understand and respect that. Which is why I’m not-depressed. People who are depressed can identify with my mood shifts, my empty feeling, and my sadness. The difference being that in my case it’s merely just a state of mind. Me being too lazy to own up to my responsibility. Maybe I will need some sort of help if it becomes severe but right now, I’ll be okay knowing I’m just not-depressed.


Entertainment   /ɛntəˈteɪnm(ə)nt/


the action of providing or being provided with amusement or enjoyment.

I love the question – why? I’ve recently become obsessed with examining the food that is fed to me, and the easiest way to do so is by asking – why? I’m not talking about food by the way. Entertainment is, I feel, one of the most interesting facets of modern humanity. It plays such a large part in our lives. Music, TV, Forums, Blogs, Movies etc. I partake in all of the previously mentioned, I’m unashamed of that fact too. Or, I was unashamed of that fact. I always knew what entertainment meant to me, I was never zombie like, binge watching Breaking Bad. I knew why I was doing it, it was an escape, a stress reliever, I didn’t do it to enjoy it, I did it because I needed it.

I was reading Catch 22, I won’t post any spoilers, but there is a part where one of the characters suffers an existential crisis (was that a spoiler?). It was more than that really, he questioned the point of it all, he was involved in a war, I’m involved in College, that’s pretty much the same thing right? Anyway, it made me question what my life would be like without all the ‘entertainment’ I indulge in. That we all indulge in. It’s a large a part of our lives.

People give awards to people for creating movies/series, acting etc. They are essentially saying ‘thank you, for creating something significant enough to distract me’.  Your job sucks? Come home, pop in a DVD (if people still do that), and indulge. Stressful day? Listen to your favourite artist and get lost in the world of music they create. There’s even different levels of entertainment. Ever heard of art house films? Entertainment is our little reward for being a model citizen, or maybe even for being alive, for existing.

It’s all entertainment, some guise it under the form of art. People have said art can enlighten you, take you to a spiritual place that you would not have experienced. I’ve never bought into that. Yes, I’m a sceptic. Life ends, does it not? It ends and all our experiences will count for nothing when we do. So really, how big a part can ‘art’ play in ones life? Why indulge in it? I don’t mean to belittle any one persons activities, they are your own, all I’m trying to figure out is how much of life is actually affected by entertainment.

Who are we without our music? I can’t imagine talking to people who don’t even have the same music taste as me, imagine someone who doesn’t even listen to music. What would happen if we were left alone with our thoughts for a week? Why not? The worst part of it all is I’m posting this on wordpress, it’s all I know.

All I know now is I’m cutting down on all forms of entertainment. Not getting rid of it, no, I love a little release now and then, but cutting down, definitely. I have a rudimentary (maybe even less than that) knowledge of art and entertainment, one could probably derive that from my writings, but still it bothers me how much it means to all of us. I only just realised that it really is a much larger part of my life than I’d like to admit.

The Gap (My Bullshit Philosophy #1)

I love bullshit philosophy/self diagnosis. It’s where you know of your own problem and know why it is that it is occurring. In most situations there is already some branch of philosophy which covered it, but it’s nice to come to your own conclusion. So I have these Bullshit Hypothesis/Philosophies, and here’s the first, I call it ‘The Gap’.

When you look at life. it’s really hard to know what is what. I mean, if someone had told me 10 years ago, that I’d be in this position if I didn’t “change my ways”, I’d probably still be in this position. Because there is no guard against who you really are. The gap is that moment, it only occurs when you are conscious, when you revert back to ‘the real you’, after all your hard work to change, the work put in to be different, yet still end the same; because in that moment, however long or short the true you comes out. And it most likely always will.

Let me elaborate, the gap isn’t relaxation time, it isn’t eating food, it isn’t smoking, it isn’t drinking, taking whatever prohibited narcotics and it isn’t having sex. The gap is simply any activity that takes you backwards from where you currently stand in any thing or situation in your life. The gap can be eating greasy, oily, unhealthy pizza during a diet. It could staying on Reddit for hours after you promised yourself you wouldn’t because you’re behind on assignments. It’s when you know you should be doing something and yet you don’t do it. It shouldn’t be confused for weakness, they are two very different concepts. It is that moment when you are about to commit a regressive activity, plus, the moment when you’re committing it. In those moments you are doing something which you know you shouldn’t but have no control against it, when you’re done doing whatever it is, you come back to reality and ask yourself why you did that. You can’t understand why because now in this very moment when you’re questioning yourself, you feel you would not do it again but you probably will.

You feel like you were unconscious, but you weren’t. You promise yourself you will never let that happen again and you work as hard as possible to ensure that it doesn’t happen again. I call it the gap because it occurs between two moments:

1. When you are self-aware to all your regressive activities and know you should not do any of them

2. The moment after you’ve either committed a regressive activity and/or faced the consequences of a regressive activity.

It’s a gap in consciousness, progressive consciousness.

Take sleep for an example. Sleep would not be categorized as a regressive activity, even if it makes you late for work one day. The underlying condition may be that you were too tired and needed those extra minutes, your body needed them, and when your body didn’t need any more sleep, you woke up. Now if that happens everyday, and eventually starts to affect your work and your performance in other parts of your life, then the amount of time you take sleeping becomes a regressive activity. Look at it this way, say you are supposed to set your alarm and possibly get your mind set for less hours of sleep than you are used to. A gap would be, not setting your alarm/turning it off when it rings/hitting the snooze button one too many times, then being late for your job/lecture, or whatever it is you set the alarm for.

I’m yet to discover a guard against the gap, because like I said, you’re hardly aware when it is happening, it feels natural. One thing I have discovered is you can minimise the amount of time that it occurs through one thing; working hard. You know of your own regressive activities, you know how good they feel to you, how natural it is, so don’t work hard to stop yourself from enjoying them, that’s near impossible. Instead work hard to control when they occur, suffer now doing the stuff you hate but which will get you to a better place in life, then when you get to that better place, let loose a little.

I said just a little, don’t fuck up your life and blame me.


Have you ever looked at it all? Looked at everyone and just feel like asking them, ‘why are you smiling?’ I feel like if I ever asked someone that, they’re response would be ‘because I’m supposed to’. I’m supposed to smile, I live a good life, I have unlimited internet, food in my fridge, and when I turn the knob, scalding hot water comes out of the shower head. So why am I not smiling?

It’s no crime to question sanity and what you believe, or what you do. The crime comes in when it paralyzes you, makes you unable to completely do anything positive or constructive, when you’re just doing because you have to, masturbating because you have to, watching porn because you have to, attending lectures because you have to, completing assignments because you have to, attending church because you have to, and smiling, because you have to.

Through it all, I’m realising something; it’s extremely taboo to be unhappy. People reject it like it’s some sort of disease, so I say, ‘hey, maybe it is, maybe I’m overthinking life, maybe it isn’t as pointless as I make it out to be’. I reconsider, and continue doing all the things I’m supposed to do with no enthusiasm whatsoever, and when I’m done I sit back and think about how mellow it all is.

I can’t be unhappy, I don’t think it’s allowed, and if I am, the response I get when trying to tell people is ‘hey, just be happy’. Yes, it’s that simple. Every time I see a smile these days I now often wonder if it’s genuine, and it probably is, but I still look, I’m just looking for someone who I can relate to.

Invisible Hugs and Sadness

I don’t know what the hell a hug is.

I know the action, I’ve seen and performed it, but I don’t really know what it is.

What I mean is, I have no idea about the origin of a hug.

I don’t know why two humans would want to embrace each other in that fashion.

I don’t even know if there’s a specific method or proper way to hug.


I fucking love hugs.

In recent years I’ve taken to this pessimistic view of life, like no good can come of it, it’s not depression, and it’s not a thought process I’d recommend, it broods darkness over your mind. And indeed darkness brooded over my mind. I really hate using words like darkness to describe complex emotions and feelings, so let me try and simplify it by means of unnecessary analogies and metaphors. It’s like an invisible sadness, it’s there and you know it, but you can’t see it, or show it. Even when you’re happy, you’re sad. It’s there in the back of your mind reminding you that this happiness will only last for a few moments and within a few moments you’ll be back again looking for your next fix of happiness like some sort of drug fiend. You’re still able to communicate with people but even before you meet, you already know the conversation you’re going to have and all the generic statements they are going to make which will drive you insane. Yeah, pretty dark right?

So it puts a strain on me, especially when I’m talking to people, I want them to like what I like and talk about stuff that I like and introduce me to people I’d like or music that I’d like, obviously because I’m the most awesome human ever to walk on the planet and everyone should be like me, obviously. One day though, I was done listening to someone talking about stuff of which I had no appreciation and I see this lady I know(she’s in her early 20’s, I’m trying to shift into the mentality of calling women over the age of 18 ladies and not girls) and she stopped to give me a hug because she didn’t have time to stay and talk. This was the first time she’d hugged me. It was magical. It was a magical hug. It was like sex, I’ve never had sex so, it was like Breaking Bad (close enough?). I disappeared in the moment an her warmth, I closed my eyes like an idiot and basked in the moment. Her hands were tightly pressed on my back and she pulled me close and I could feel her warm breath on my shoulder and I just  zoned out. I correct my earlier statement, this was nothing sexual, there was no sexual desire toward her, the moment was just perfect.

When she was done hugging me, a riot ensued in my mind. Like two armies collided in my mind. One was obviously a Zulu army with spears and shields and had somehow invaded Manhattan and were up against the other army, a modern American army. The Zulu army is fighting because they don’t want her to leave “Hug her again, hug her again” they violently chant while the army on the other side try to calm them down by means of a speaker phone and the typical hard ass sergeant/officer on the other end of it screaming back “we cannot do that, it’d be weird, we have to move on”. The modern army defeats the Zulu army and the last soldier before he’s executed pleas “at least tell her she gives good hugs”, and almost on cue the hard ass general says “nope, not even that” then he pulls the trigger and kills him with his weapon of proper social behaviour.

I loved that hug and ever since then I’ve been receiving them and savouring each hug and when I separate it’s like coming off a high, I’ve never been high, but I’m assuming that’s what it must be like. The ‘darkness’ had disappeared and the world seemed brighter. Colours shone more radiantly, flowers we’re blooming people were much more happier and there was no sadness in the world, all because of her hug.

Then I found out I was behind on my assignments…