The Joys of Depression

I firmly believe in the goodness of depression. I don't mean the long-term, suicidal depression that psychiatrists warn us about, which would perhaps also turn into other exotic mental illness, but the short term fits of 'down'ness that most of us go through. Yes, I believe, through eighteen-and-half long years of experience, in the cathartic effect of a good, old-fashioned, garden-variety pity party.

I truly think that everybody should experience the wonders of wallowing in self-pity at least once in their life time. I'm sure most people would know what I'm talking about: Those times when you think that the whole world is out to get you (when not even a quarter of the human population, [never mind other species] is aware of your existence) and that everybody hates you, nobody loves you, and let's go dig the garden for worms to eat. Somehow there's nothing as satisfying as that feeling! Now I'm not saying it's the same for everyone. I'm sure there are lots of variations in theme such as the I'm-too-fat tirade, or the I'm-too-skinny variation or the I'm-really-a-worthless-person thingummy, or the… well, you get the drift.

The best setting for these moments, I find, would be a dark room or an empty terrace or even a bathroom. As I said, there are variations. You can also get down in the dumps at the top of the Empire State Building (or the LIC building, a lil closer to home). Even trains maybe conducive to the gloomy atmosphere. Oh, and rainy days must be the best times for depression (unless you're an impossible optimist, or a Chennai-ite!). I mean, picture this...

Scene: Indoors.
A window. A windows seat on which sits a young/old man/woman. It is raining outside and said young/old man/woman has his/her face close to the window. In the background is heard weeping violins/wailing sax or simply a depressing song such as 'Why Does It Always Rain On Me'. A (theatrical) teardrop falls down the smooth/wrinkled cheek.

Y/O M/W: Sigh. Woe is me. Oh gloom. Sniff.

Well, I do hope that illustrated my point--the perfection that is rain when it comes to feeling lonely and abandoned.

I, for one, am a master of these mope-fests. I revel in them. I enjoy them. I am completed by them. I make it a point to feel martyred or victimized at least once a month. I mean, one has to keep up standards, after all. And it's awesome, let me tell you! So much so that when you start getting into a better mood, it's with great reluctance that you let go of the feeling.

However, while in these moods, you realize your great capability for feeling down--over nothing! So, the rest of the time, it's quite easy to be bouncy and cheerful because, well... You know you have those special moments waiting for you at the end of the road, where you can feel all persecuted, etc.