In Which I Ask Myself, Why Am I Depressed? I talk to the one I love

There should be no reason as to why I have started becoming depressed. It angers me, that horrible empty feeling in my chest, the way my throat seems to collapse into my lungs. It makes me feel sick. And then the hopelessness... the thoughts: Worthless, Hopeless, Cold-hearted Bitch.

Only serving to remind me what a spoiled person I am. What reason do I have to pity myself? My life is nothing compared to other people. I have a family, a person who loved me, and yet I throw it all away for self pity, self hatred.

And perhaps I am the selfish little worm that they seem so keen on calling me, eh, M? Who are you to say I am a loving and gentle person when all I have showed you are my sneers and and the threat of the back of my hand? You are a fool. And I am a fool for having lost you in the midst of my idiotic anger. My misunderstanding of you trying to help me. And now all I have is the fading memory of everything we all used to do those few years we were together. As friends. As a brother and sister to me, and you.. Damn your kindness.

Why did you have to go and clean all the cobwebs from around my mind and oil my heart so that it worked? You know I was perfectly content to let them sit in a shelf for the rest of my life, completely unused until I died. Now that they work, my memories and emotions...

You know what, M? Enough of this. Let me quit you!But even though I try to walk away, there is the weight of you memories tied to my fingers. Even when I write I see you in the letters, hear you in the lyrics of totally irrelevant songs. Who could know that I'm too Sexy for my shirt would have me remember the way you laughed... much more that I never really gave you reason to laugh. What the hell was your problem, to say you loved a wholly unattractive unsociable unsympathetic person like me? God, I threatened to maim you so many times that even I would have maimed myself from frustration.

And how I thwart myself in all emotional senses. How I wish I could meet you again. Some way. And yet I know if that ever be the case I would ultimately spurn you all over again. Why? Maybe because I'm an idiot that way, despite wishing you could hug me all over again, or even hold my had for a little while... I guess I'm just too afraid to admit it.

"Ah!", you may say if you were alive, "but you have just admitted it, mon amour." and then I'd get pissed, cuz you know how I hate to be wrong, right? And in the end, you died, and I ended up alone again, with people i should trust but wont let myself. Because nobody takes me as seriously as you did, because to everybody I'm just funny cheerful, Vivi. The girl who hates her own race, she who's nice to people when she feels like it, the artist, the writer. And thats the way that ot's been since you died.

So now I wait for the moment when another person will reach in to find the lobster, eh M? remember the lobster? It has a hard shell on the outside, but is soft and liquidy inside. Crack that lobster to find that maybe im just a depressed, angry person that people take for granted as that annoying person who just wont stop talking! One day maybe I'll have the chance to be you, and then Ill know how much I made you suffer with my anger and selfishness, but for now I can only wish beyond hope that I'll find you again. If only in my memories.