The fiction of how I feel is still being told every day.

20 Feb

In my own therapy, I have been working on focusing on the activities and outlets that let me best relieve stress and sincerely consider my decisions better. “Aokigahara Mistake” by Jimmy Chen at USED FURNITURE REVIEW reminds me how much of a struggle such searching can be, how small I really am, how despite that life is heavy, man, so heavy to hold.

When my therapist encouraged me to draw again, for the fourth or so consecutive time, met by reluctance and deflated weariness of art in general, he didn’t think his patient’s first attempt would be of a suicide in Aokigahara, a forest in Japan also known as the “Sea of Trees,” the second most popular place for suicide, next to the Golden Gate Bridge. I end in speaking of myself in the third person because my chronic depression often feels like watered-down fiction, a played out novel whose mental vernacular is predictable and nauseating, the hero still waiting for a pouty heroine to enter.

Read the whole thing here. IT IS RAD.

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