Warning: if you suffer from depression, I recommend you skip reading this. Really.
Fireworks are exploding, somewhere. It is new year’s day.
You lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, pondering the futility of getting up to start another day.
This is the year in which non-believers like you get to laugh at everyone else for believing the world would end when it eventually doesn’t, except that it did. For you, it already has.
You blink and that simple action seems to bring forth a torrent of unwanted memories you strongly attempt to suppress but seem unable to any more. You just can’t deny the fact that suddenly the world seems to no longer have a place for you, that you are now constantly on the outside looking in, that you are some awkward old wallpaper that is slowly peeling off and will one day disappear without a trace.
Nothing you own is really yours. The bed you lie in, the duvet keeping you warm, the clothes you sleep in, the pillows you rest on, the slippers you will wear to walk around in the flat you live in… Nothing is yours. Even the things you paid for yourself.
“Your time is your own.” Well, fuck that. You have no interest in your time because you aren’t going anywhere. You are unable to see beyond the next minute, and therefore unable to see the point of it all. Incapable of believing that there is a future for you that you need to prepare yourself for, you instead totter forward because that’s the done thing. Because you are afraid to make it stop.
You are afraid that someday everyone will discover the charred lump that is your blackened heart and reject you. You fear it has already happened.
Your greatest fear is fading away into the faceless, mediocre masses and you step out of bed determined to not let that happen, full of resolution. One small step for you however is a giant leap into the seething hell-fire pit of mediocrity that has threatened to swallow you up all these years and you realise you are right back where you started, in that bed you do not own; and that is where you stay, forever.
Even the fireworks eventually stop.
Happy new year, everyone. Since everyone else seems to be ringing in the new year with sickeningly positive thoughts and hopes and “New Year, New You!” slogans, I thought I’d give all of you a taste of the other side. Y’know, just to balance the saccharine out. Maybe this way, this year won’t be as big a waste as the last one was.