Therapy for free

I am sitting on the sofa. I feel like shit. I’m depressed like shit. Why is it like this? Why am I so unbelievably depressed? Should I feel sorry for myself? Should other people feel sorry for me? No... probably not. Or maybe they should. Maybe I’m manic depressive... that sure fits like a glow. Maybe I should be diagnosed. Where and how does one get such a diagnosis? I would probably have to go to a shrink. I cringe. I don’t want someone to tell me how to be. Wait a sec... what do I want with a diagnosis anyway? So I can feel even sorrier for myself? So I can tell myself I’m hopeless? I turn my head and spot a drawing on the wall. It’s of me, even though I didn’t actually bother to make it look anything like me. I look confused in the drawing. I give this version of myself the silliest voice and imagine her going:

“I’m manic depressive. There is nothing to be done about it. I might as well lay back and let it play out because I’m a total nut job!”

I snort. Jesus Christ! Now that’s depressing! I don’t want a diagnosis anymore. I’d just lay back and be even more depressed. They’d probably just give me meds and I don’t want meds. My head will just have to do without meds unless it gets too far out, cause meds always make me feel bad and in my book it’s a safer bet that I can deal with my mind then that I can deal with meds. I almost got myself addicted to fairly mild painkillers one time for crying out loud! So the shrinks can just keep their God damn pills. My liver is in good shape from my general dislike of alcohol so I don’t want to mess it up. I’m not that depressed after all. If I think about it real good, it’s not so bad :)

"Tripping on anaesthesia"

(the portrait in question)