Well, dear reader, I am angry and insulted. I normally don't rant here because I am normally not pissed off. Depressed people don't get pissed off they get booze and pills. Our action figures come with accessories that are dangerous to children under the age of four.
I have this friend who I was in a relationship with during high school and for a few years after. She is currently living near my parents and she is good friends with my parents. I love her to death, mind you. I just want to say that before I continue. She also has friends who visit my parents (Note: All the people in this story live in Alaska while I am currently stationed in Hawaii).
Now, because of the fact that, had I not had a relationship with this girl, she would not have a relationship with my parents and so it makes since that when they are together my name is brought up in conversation now and then. Not a problem.
Today, however, on my BIRTHDAY! while I am (this is known mind you) suffering from a bad case of depression, this girl (whom I love dearly) decides to inform me (not directly) that my parents and everyone else involved in conversation about me thinks I am a bum and they are worried that when I get out of the Navy and go back 'home' that I will not be able to get or keep a job!
Now, allow me to explain further. In my younger years I had difficulty keeping jobs. Blame in on immaturity, depression or whatever. There is truth in that. The fact is that I joined the military to fix this! I asked her, 'Do people really think I am a bum? That doesn't sit well will me.' 'You are just going to have to prove yourself when you get here,' she replies.
I said nothing more. I was in shock. I went for a walk. The first thing that came to my mind as I walked down the road with the dog in tow was, 'What the FUCK do you think I have been doing for the last twelve years of my life!' Yes. I have been in the Navy for twelve years, submarine service as an Auxilaryman. That means I work ten hour days on hydraulic systems, high pressure air systems, FREAKING OXYGEN GENERATORS!!! I stand OVERNIGHT duty every three of four days and I go to sea on a battle ship that sinks hundreds of feet under water. Wow. Yeah. (Not currently, mind you. I'm still in limbo right now.)
Sorry. It just seems odd to me that after all I have done; all I have been through that any civilian person (regardless of their knowledge of my past or not; regardless of their relationship with me) could possibly question my work ethic or ability to get a job. It sickens me, really it does. Do I want to leave this place and go somewhere where I know ahead of time that I have to prove myself before I even get there? I don't know. I'm kind of running out of options. If I get out when I plan to I will have 14 years in. 14 years of SUBMARINE SERVICE!!! Donald Trump would hire me, for God's sake.
If I got a college degree on top of that I could be making twice what anyone else in that circle of friends and family is currently making. Then they can all eat my shorts! God, I think I would rather be depressed then angry. I really hate getting pissed off. Sorry. Sorry.
I just had a crappy day. The wife remembered my birthday but didn't care to do anything about it. Yeah. So, no cake or presents or even sex. Go figure. I suppose I should ignore the issue above just in honor of what good things will happen for me when I get out of here and get back home around friends and family. That is if I can prove myself and get respect. I might just take a long vacation in the mental ward. At least they would be sympathetic to my problems. Enough to give me drugs, anyway.
Peace out for now!
Even Poets Grow Tired of You!
Who really cares?
Another poem about depression.
Get over it! Fall in love!
Write about flowers and happy things!
Write about REAL problems and injustice.
We don't want to hear you whine!
We don't want to hear you bitch!
Take a pill and get over yourself.
Eat some icecream and be happy.
Eat the barrel of a gun!
Just as long as we don't have to hear your bitching!
We want love and love lost.
We want daffodils and moon beams.
We want unicorns and happy smiles.
I just want understanding and relief.
I just want someone to say,
Depression is a real disease!
I just want someone to hold me until the pain is gone.
And not judge me for being weak.
But that isn't going to happen.
So, I guess I'll just smoke another cigarette.
And bother you with one more poem.
About this myth they call 'Depression'.