Swallowing the pride

Asking for help is the hardest thing anyone can do.
But what's the alternative?

Depression in itself is a monster. When a person can't look in a mirror without feeling disgusted at what they've become, physically, emotionally, everything, it's a horrifying thing. It comes in waves, some days it's practically nonexistent, and you're so busy you don't have time to think. You have distractions. You can just work, ignoring the emotions. You can be content with everything. It's great.
Then comes the days when it's overwhelming. You have thoughts that scare the bejeesus out of you. You can't find the good in anything. You feel lost and confused and in over your head. Coupled with a crippling loneliness, you bottle things up until you crack, and utterly breakdown. And when these breakdowns happen frequently and become severe, you're forced to realize that you need to get help.
But it gets better. It always does.
Choose happiness.

Crossroads

What drives people? What makes them do what they do, what makes them tick? There's not a single right answer. Some will say religion, some will say their calling, you get the idea. But all of these things require a passion. Passion is what makes people get up and do something. We need it. A lack of passion is fatal.

What if you know what your passion is, and you're torn? Live life head over heels with what you do, or lead a stable life, merely satisfied? What happens then?

Nasty little four letter word.

You'd be lying if you said you haven't rolled your eyes at least once during a cheesy romance movie, or during some power ballad about the woes of love. At one point, every person on earth has been cynical, condescending, or just plain above the mushy, disgustingly sappy, ridiculously over dramatic portrayals of this stupid, commercialized emotion called love.

Call me bitter. Call me heartless. But I consider myself all of the above. It might be the cause of a mostly single existence, or maybe the product of. Blame it on my parents, blame it on the media, blame it on me, but it is what it is. When I see a teenage couple walking down the street all over each other, I know that they'll probably just break up in a week or so. When I see girls posting sappy love quotes, or lamenting about their current fling or crush or whatever on their preferred social networking site, I blow it off and give it little to no credit.

Despite it all, I know love exists. It has to, or else we'd all end up killing each other. Or ourselves. Dare I say it, I've experienced it before. And let me tell you, it blows. It's like an annoying song lyric that gets stuck in your head, or like a cold sore that won't ever go away. That one person makes you act differently, look at things in a whole new way, and next thing you know, they suddenly got you all vulnerable. You didn't ask for this to happen, it just did. Then it just starts to suck. Because then it starts to hurt, when they don't return the feeling, or some shit like that.

All this "swept off my feet" and "on cloud nine" giddy sayings about love are so inaccurate. Sure it might be nice, but in my experience, this is how it goes: if it's real, it's like getting strapped into a horrifying roller-coaster against your will. It takes you hostage and throws you all over the place, occasionally enjoyable, always unpredictable, and then you'd give anything to stop the ride and get off.

But what do I know? I'm just a kid. I've got a lot of life left to live.

Funny thing really

Does anyone actually know what they want to write about before they sit down and actually start? Because I know I don't. It's the strangest feeling really. You just start feeling off. Doesn't matter what you're doing beforehand really. You just start thinking and your body just goes onto auto-pilot. Suddenly you have this idea.

Now. What do you do with this idea? Some people grab some kind of musical instrument. Others will put numbers and stats on it, experiment with it. Some will create art with it. Sadly, most people will just leave it in their head. What good will it do there? The point of ideas is to share them, elaborate on them, make them into something tangible. Make art, make science, make a difference, but don't just leave it as a thought. Personally, I think it's selfish in a way.

So that's what I'm trying to do here. Get the word out. I'm a dancer and thespian, by trade, and writing is a new development for me, but what the hell. I'll give this a chance.