I don't know, man. Depression is fucked up.

It seems like sometimes, even the depressed can't relate to people with depression. I just made the argument that the main reason for my state of mind (read: unbeatable sadness) is genetics. My family history of suicide and overall depression. I was arguing, nay, debating, with a close friend of mine who seems to feel the same, although was raised in, what seems to me, better circumstances. In fact, I would go as far to say that he is insulting me in the way he feels. But that would be a dick move.

Why?

Because I realize that a lot of the time that I hear my brain say "Kill yourself you giant piece of shit", I have no reason at all to think like that. I am an educated, healthy, attractive guy in one of the most celebrated countries in the world. I have a beautiful wife, two incredible children, and a mother and sister who would do anything at all to keep me happy. I have friends, talent, and drive. I have no fucking reason to be sad. Yet, barely a day goes by that I don't just... consider it. The big it. The "could I?" The "if I had a gun, should I?" It breaks my heart to know that I can even so casually bring myself to think that way.

Am I so spoiled that the tiniest of things can lead me such places?

What right do I have to consider such terrible shit? There are billions in the world suffering much more horrible existences than I, but catching the wrong glimpse in the mirror, seeing the wrong words in print, thinking the wrong thought at the wrong time... Is it justified?

And what if I ever acted on it?

If one day, my paycheck was simply too low. If I had a bad day, had a beer, and looked in the mirror. If I said "okay." If f I never woke up again. Could it ever be understood? Would anyone ever realize the life long struggle? The battle I have been fighting? The sacrifices, losses, and wins? Could it ever be justified?

I hope not. Such selfishness deserves no justification.

I want to die. I want to disappear. I want to never have existed. It has taken me a long time to be able to calmly admit it, but it's true. The issue is, who the fuck am I to decide to destroy my family? To abandon those who count on me? To break the hearts of my wife, children, family, and friends? Who the fuck am I?

My life is good. I have great things in it. I am more blessed than any man could ever hope to be, but I can't fight the urge inside me to snuff it all out. Be it genetics, or taught, something is wrong. But I am not weak. I will suffer alongside it. Day in and day out. I will fight and fight, as I have been fighting for twenty-seven years. I will hunt out optimism like a hound to a fox. I will force a bright side. I will win, you motherfucker.

Do you hear me?

I will fucking win.

I will survive this.

I will walk away from your bullshit. I will smile at the end. My family will never suffer the loss. I am greater than this disease. I am stronger. You motherfucker, I am stronger.