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.

I was doing pretty well for a while. My coping skill was eating(more of a mechanism) and it was helping me a lot. Now, I can't even stomach anything. The closer the trial is getting, the more my depression is hitting me. It feels like I can't distract anymore. I can't even look at anything with a razor any more. I feel so sick. Some one please help me.

I self harmed for two years. I began starting a new coping skill that has been really effective; eating. Although, I'm worried because I had a slight eating disorder before, eating might draw me back in it agaian.

Hello everyone! Here is another post that I wonder if anyone can relate to?

Now I have recognized that I do have some good qualities as I began to understand and rebuild myself but I find that I have also exploited these qualities in the past, distant and and not so distant. At I times I have even justified my actions with these qualities for example talking myself out of returning a phone call from my mother, I'll tell myself that attending to my life changes are more important, I can't disrupt this noble and righteous work, then anger will justify the frustration of having to make these life changes then ill hold her responsible for my current emotional and mental struggles. Ill think she doesn't deserve to speak with me, she deserves to suffer like me, she should be punished. (I know very immature, Its as if bpd is one the more extreme symptoms of immaturity)

Or my sadness will justify my depression after acknowledging how sensitive I am. For an example I'll use avoiding my mothers call again, I'll think to myself that I deserve to be alone for all the stress and pain I have caused others, that there is so much growth that needs to transpire before I can effectively communicate with anyone. That I don't have anything worth saying, that I don't want to worry anyone with my issues and ineptitude. (Really I'm just removing a level of responsibility and accountability over my own actions that I believe I'm too exhausted for, too depressed to invest my energy in to)
This is where My Fear interjects sometimes, creating thoughts like I would just embarrass myself if I try to educate or inform my mother on my current condition because I don't really know myself like i once believed I did, I'll sound uninformed to her, like I'm not trying to change, or I'm not taking the growth that needs to transpire seriously enough. (The shame would be too much to bear apparently is what Im thinking here, once again I see myself hiding from a level of responsibility because of the fear of emotional shame, which is related to heightened level of emotional sensitivity leaving me fearful of many personal and social situations/confrontations)

Another thing I have become recently hip to is the projection of these insecurities on he world. What I believe people are thinking about me or fear that they may be thinking, really are just what i deep down think about myself. And it does not stop at people i project my demeanor on to all things, in my eyes the world has become as tumultuous as my soul, A place where joy does not exist only struggle and heartache. I believe by improving my perception of self my projection on to the world will also improve, my perception of the world will improve and i will see the beauty of life again.

----Every new day can change one's life; Every new experience can deepen the realm within ones world. These notions run parallel, to the story of Johnny and The Cupcake Girl----

(Character Background. If looking for eroticism, skip to next chapters.)

Prelude: Aromatic Cupcakes

The sun was beaming through the cracks of the curtains - Johnny woke up, always curious as to what the day would entail. Getting ready for work at the store was a very systematic process for him. Every slight movement, down to the way he dried off his vascular body after a steaming shower, was replicated with exact precision.

Coffee and cigarettes. The fix of the morning, yet today they seemed ever so weak. Bitter sensations on the tongue - Johnny needing something new.. Something sweet.

His inner world was intense. Always maneuvering, always watching - ever changing. Those simpletons who he sped by on the inter-state know no sensation similar to the ones concocted by Johnny's dis-inhibited mind.

Many are curious, but few truly venture. Today was the day, like so many before, that one curious, light-hearted being, would accept any contingencies within coffee shop: The Cupcake Girl. After all, what was life for the young girl without knowledge of the unknown? She was so full of life, full of energy, but being virgin to many experience which she knew exist, felt like a ghost on a winding path.. She was so confused about the world.. People and their intentions.. What she wanted.. What she stood for.. The Cupcake Girl needed something stable - Something definite. Something, to hold on to.

Unbeknownst to the depths of the labyrinth, The Cupcake Girl took the leap of faith that was so intrinsic to her nature, and necessary to develop her ever curious mind regarding that of which she had no experience.

Her name was Pricilla. And she smelled exactly like she looked.