Fried Rice

24/04/13
Uncategorized

Dear Depression,

I mentioned to my friend that I was thinking of trying that rice experiment. I don’t mean the one where you’re showing your family a photo on your phone, a dog barks, you get a fright, chuck your mobile in the air, it lands in your cup of coffee and you need to put it in a bag of rice to absorb all the moisture to get it working again. Not that one.

I mean the one where you have two jars of cooked rice that you speak to every day. One you say really nice, complimentary things to. How it’s lovely and awesome and rocks your world. Stuff like that. The other you slag off. Threaten with a life of MSG addiction. Abuse with every rice-based insult that you can think of.

It’s been said, that after a few weeks, the nice rice is still nice rice. Whereas the rice that has been told it is no good, has become exactly that.

My friend said that I wouldn’t be able to do it. She says I’d struggle to be horrible to anyone. Even a jar of grains.

Perhaps. I was always taught that you should treat people the way you’d like to be treated. I do try. And as a general rule I think people are nice to you, if you are nice to them. I just don’t understand why it hasn’t worked out that way in our relationship.

I’m like a broken iTunes download about how amazing and supportive my friends are, and how lucky I am to have them in my life. All of them. Except you.

They big me up, while you just seem to concentrate on bringing me down. They compliment me while you spend your time whispering criticisms in my ear. Belittling me. Reminding me of every mistake I’ve ever made. Telling me that my friends don’t actually like me, that they are just pretending.

At times I even start to believe you. Then I remind myself how they stand by me even when you are hanging around. They wouldn’t do that if they weren’t true friends. None of them like you. One described you as a fun vacuum that sucks the enjoyment out of every occasion. They notice that I’m different when you are around. Quieter, less confident, sadder. They just put up with you for my sake. Say they’d rather see me with you, than not see me at all.

It’s rare that I’ll take them up on that offer though. If truth be known I’m embarrassed by you so prefer not to take you out anywhere. I’d rather apologise for not going out for coffee, girls’ night out, even a wedding, than take you along and risk having to end up apologising for you.

Not that you seem to notice, or mind, when we hide away in my flat. You still manage to make it all about you. You interrupt me with your negative thoughts when I’m in the middle of doing something, so that I lose concentration and can’t remember what it was I was doing. You won’t even let me do things I enjoy, like read and watch TV, cause you want some attention. You keep me up at night with your incessant chat so that I end up exhausted and crying tears of frustration, wishing you would leave me alone.

Sometimes you do disappear. Normally when I’m working and don’t have time for you. Or I’m off on holiday and haven’t invited you. I never think of you then. I forget you even existed.

Then, just when I’ve been lulled into a false sense of security, back you come. Wanting to hang out again. Wearing me down.

You are supposed to get something out of every relationship in your life. I don’t get anything from this one. Nothing. So I’m asking you to notice that I never call, I never write, I never visit…please take the hint.

It’s not me, it’s definitely you.

Yours sincerely,
Stacey

I can’t stay on your life support
There’s a shortage in the switch
I can’t stay on your morphine
Cause it’s making me itch
Pink – Just Like A Pill