Crazytown now has Netflix

I visit Crazytown often. My passport is swollen with stamps from my many visits. Crazytown is just my word for being really depressed.

According to my GP, who nearly fell off her chair in laughter, I’m not just a little sad.  I’m clinically depressed. Her face now stone and emotionless, people who are just a little sad don’t do the things you do’.

I always have a feeling of emptiness, anxiety and pessimism but Crazytown is usually when I’m thinking of stabbing my shrink in the neck with a box cutter because he didn’t listen to me.

Crazytown is me finishing work for the day and having no idea what happened during the day. All I can tell is that I haven’t had a productive day.

There is a man in black, known to many as Death, who lures me with promises of nothingness. He whispers to me that he can take the pain away. He smiles. He wants me to follow him. I think endlessly about how I can gain his approval and join him. He promises to love me if I come with him. He promises not to judge me. He promises me warmth and safety. It’s an obsession that he promises will solve all of my problems.

Crazy town is like a dark fog. I can’t see anyone else and they can’t see me. I’m scream but nobody hears. Maybe nobody cares. Nobody understands. Nobody feels the pain. But the man in black does.

Everyone tells me living is the best revenge but I’m not really living. I’m getting from one day to the next. They’ve already won. I’ve already put up the white flag but they are still firing at me with machine guns even though all my flesh has been damaged and torn. I’m already on the ground but they can’t stop firing.

‘You just need to’. In Crazytown this is a common phrase. As I approach each person they point their finger at me and tell me to just stop being like this. Stop it. Be normal. Are you even trying?

Every single day I try not to be this person you all see. I’m desperate to be someone else. It’s almost like I’m too stupid to learn.

People who love me get frustrated. I get frustrated. I don’t choose to be some whiny little bitch-tits emo.

I want the world to be full of yellow dresses, talking cartoon characters, icecream mountains and a house made of gingerbread. Until Willy Wonka sorts this out though, I curl up on my lounge with the television on in some hope of distraction.

The more I fight against death though the stronger he gets. He wants me and he is only just warming up. Fancy that, he wants me. Every single time I’m in Crazytown I have to wonder if I have the guts to fight the man in black off.