Rightio, guys! Welcome to my world! It's great in here, albeit the landscapes may appear a little cerebral and neurotic sometimes. I lead the fine young life of an Irish student. Yes, student life is... well, chaotic. Effective organisation is always precluded by the necessities of student life (i.e. sleeping erratic hours, inconsistently meeting inconsistent deadlines, and an all-round simultaneous lack of planning and spontaneity). I am doing what I love (that's binge-reading on metaphysics and critical theory and writing highfalutin essays on it all), and even if it doesn't make me happy, that's okay, because I'm doing the right thing with my life right now. Clarity helps.

Happiness (whatever it is) is a thoroughly overused term these days. Why on earth should I be happy just because I have everything and my life is pretty darn good?! 'Erm... perhaps because you have everything and your life is pretty darn good...?' This is called circular reasoning, a logical fallacy. In fact, the entire pursuit of happiness in itself is both illogical and pointless. For a fact, nothing makes me happy. Ought I be stricken now by an avalanche of guilt? Not really. It's okay to feel whatever you feel and it is absolutely ridiculous to feel what someone else (or society, in fact) tells you to feel, because that's even more absurd that not feeling good, when life's good. In fact, the pursuit of happiness makes people depressed, because it's cheating logic and breaking down the faculties we rely on to make clear distinctions between things!

I like my life. I don't like my depression. I live life with depression. I do not live a depressed life. When I am really depressed I am not living my life, but this has nothing to do with my life and everything to do with my depression. It is important when I am very depressed to never wish my depression to end, because this would mean ending my life. And I like my life. It is much more likable than my depression. It only makes sense to say, then, that I like my life more than I can ever dislike my depression, because depression requires life in order to exist and wishing my life to end because it will end my depression is completely absurd, because it denies the origin of depression, which is not life, but absurdity. Yes, depression is absurd, but life is not and in order to affirm what is true and meaningful (i.e. the fact that depression is absurd) we must affirm life.

Of course, it may appear to be problematic when philosophers say that life is absurd and melancholia is a natural reaction to the absurdity of life. This may be true (and if it is it becomes difficult to distinguish depression from life), but even these philosophers find a way of affirming life, even if only in spite. For Camus, absurdity must be affirmed because our lucidity is the basis of all that we have. According to him, we must continue to push the boulder up the hill knowing it will fall back down, because acknowledging the pointlessness of this task liberates us to accept it. For Kierkegaard, it is defiance: rejection of help or escape which gives us strength to be our own and endure. For Nietzsche, life, suffering and all the tragedy in the world must be relished in order to rise above the adversity of slavery and become masters of ourselves through strength and creativity.

Thank you for your time
I am currently a male upperclassmen in high school. My grades are... For lack of a more accurate word bad, I have about a 2.0 cumulative. I used to want to be a 2d animator you know like cartoons. When I think about it that goal it is as far as can be from my reach. About a year and 4 months ago I saw this girl who is now the only thing I think about, I talk to her In very small conversations daily, she is the only reason I even want to go to school when I'm in class I zone out and just think about her I would do anything, everything, and more to make her smile. I go home from school too depressed that I'm not more to her than just someone to talk to for ten-twenty minutes and forget my homework and just think about her, cry for a few hours. Then my mother gets home and it's time for me to fake a smile and make sure she never worries about me. I usually talk to friends on skype which surprisingly takes my mind off of her a little bit, then nighttime comes and I'm back in bed crying,shaking, tired but too scared of how bad my depression may get if I don't keep working for her I've even caught myself whispering her name and talking about how much I love her when I'm in this state. So I'm trapped in this cycle, I ignore school and think of her then I remember she's the one and only thing I would ever work for and my grades just keep dropping. The one funny thing, nobody knows I have this problem, I seem so mentally stable, and I have plenty of friends, I'm only lonely because i avoid talking to people sometimes so I can just lay in bed and think about her. I had brought this problem to a different site and I was banned within a day (I must've swore or something) and I felt like nobody could help me, i have 3 ways I think of my life going, either I end up with this girl that I would be as loyal as a dog too, I somehow manage to pursue my dream of being an animator, or I don't end up with her and my depression takes over, and It scares me so much. Please just give me feedback, I need this help I feel empty.

My boyfriend has been in this really bad place for the past couple of weeks. He says that he doesn't feel like himself (or act like himself) & that he feels like 'nothing'. He's saying that he doesn't feel like a friend or a boyfriend. And that he feels nothing towards our relationship, even though he loves me like crazy. He just feels nothing towards everything right now.

Because of this he wants us to take a break from our relationship so he can focus on himself and getting better. He wants to do it alone.

I am really worried about him. I can't just leave him to battle this on his own when i'm the only one that knows he's in this bad place.

Even though we are on a break I really want to be there for him and help him. I just don't know how...

From what I have been told, I was talking and walking by 9 months old. Perhaps it is an exaggeration, but I can attest to the ease I have experienced in school, with dealing with problems, and assessing the “right” behavior in situations.

I have had one imaginary friend, from what I can remember, since I was about two years old. I remember when he first knocked on the door, a back door with a mud room in my house, and I let him in. I would tease my Dad that he was my boy friend. He kept me wonderful company and was an enlightening, safe harbor. I remember another time when someone entered through this same door. I remember that I was handed a stuffed animal by this man, but I cannot recall any more.

When I was seven, I remember feeling sure that I could survive on my own, if only my parents would let me alone. In kindergarten, I could read chapter books and would forge my mother’s signature on the homework list each week. I remember wanting the independence from my mother to moderate my own life.

My favorite thing to do at that time was read. I had a children’s encyclopedia and learned about sexual reproduction in this fashion. I discovered an obsession with looking at Michael Angelo’s “David” sculpture. I would sit and look at it for different durations each day.

Between seven and nine, my parents split up (though, I had suspected it for over a year). At this time I began having very sexual, very vivid dreams. One dream I remember was of my self in a hotel room, seducing a much older, ugly man. I believe between six and seven I was sexually abused again, by the same close friend of my family that had been in my life much earlier, and that I had let into my home through the mud room door. I cannot remember it happening, but I have returned to a certain event when I remember I was alone with this person, and there are blank spots in my memory.

I started touching my self with my dolls or stuffed animals around this time, I don’t really understand why. I would “tell” my sister’s fortune by looking into my crystal ball. Around the same time I stopped feeling normal. When I saw myself in the mirror, I felt an intense, unnatural feeling. It was almost disgust. It increased when I had on feminine clothing. I still feel it, sometimes seemingly random and sometimes by noticeable triggers, to this day.

When I was nine, I realized that my father was not scary. I saw that he would raise his voice to intimidate me- and, I saw that it was just that- and that I was capable of it too. This led me to a strange relationship with aggression. I began to “dominate” my siblings, feel an anger that was confusing and overwhelming. I felt as if something in me was red fire hot, and I had no control over it, nor the ability to stop it, nor the knowledge of how it started. I felt like a victim while I victimized other people. And still, though less frequently and with more control to mask it, I have this sensation of being a puppet. At this time I also began trying to study witch craft and wanted to be a vampire. I would mediate and attempt to make spells.

By the time I was eleven, I was not only participating in on-line sex and wishing to be kissed by a boy at school, but I was finding attendance at school more difficult, as well as having increased bouts with anxiety and depression. This only worsened as I got older. And by fourteen, I was full blown suicidal. My parents attempted to get me help, but the doctors, therapists, teachers, and medication were so easily manipulated that no one could touch me.

I would get into these crazed, raging fits of frustration and aggression. I would yell, scream, shake, cry, weep, sob; I was frightening. I started “cutting” which was mostly scratching. I started messing around with older guys. I started lying and going out and trying to drink/party as much as possible. When my father would have a chance to sit and talk to me, he would try to hug me, but I would yell insults until he would give up. I remember ...

[ Continued ]

I am Rose, an alter of Anna. She is 15, I am 16. I am always with her, watching, observing what happens. I control her memories and what she remembers. I know all of her memories from the very beginning, and I can, at times, come out to act as a co-Host. I know everything she's gone through , and I act as a leader between all of the alters. I can, at times, control who it is that comes forward. I am their manager and leader. Rage is the hardest to control, because she can draw a line of destruction whenever and wherever she is. She is filled with bottled up anger and rage that was never dealt with all our life. Should I be scared? No, she's only trying to protect our system. I feel more afraid of Echo, because he's always crying and I'm scared that he'll one day give into the darkness.

Everyone thinks that they suffer alone from our schizophrenia, but we all suffer from it equally. Even Anna suffers from it, seeing and hearing people as if she were on acid. Rae is only angered and annoyed, but Brian, whom is the most affected by it, is made to feel even more afraid than he already is all the time. Brian is a moderately autistic 18 year old with the mind of a 5 year old. He enjoys wearing shorts and faded salmon shirts. He fears everyone and everything. He is the most affected because he is so young mentally and is suffering from autism.

Brian was made in the hospital, after being restrained for days. Rae was made after being in the inpatient psychiatric unit for a month. Rage was made from years of bottled up rage. Echo was made from an event Anna went through while she was only nine; thus, the reason that Echo is permanently nine. I was made, as a mute, mature girl, from years of being told not to speak about the horrors I've faced.