I’ll hit the bottom just to feel the ground

Sometimes as a depressive  I want to feel alive, something to come along shake me to my fucking core and drag me back to the land of the living shambling along from a George Romero zombie to a sprinting flat out Danny Boyle zombie. This rarely happens though.

There are certain things that come along or happen that pin prick my conscience to say “oh that’s cool” or “well, this is fun” but generally I’m a consistent 4-5 on the social fun-o-meter occasionally peaking to 7 or a lofty 8. And you know what? I’m happy enough with that. We need that rollercoaster of emotion to notice the difference between the good and the bad and (cue the shifty eyed Mexican standoff) the ugly. If someone says they’re happy all the time, slap that self-effacing smugness off, no-one and I repeat no-one is happy 24/7 and if they are, they probably need as much medical help as I do.

Presently I feel like I’m on the climb of a rollercoaster, click clack of things going right, inching upwards and getting better every minute. I know at some point I’ll reach a peak and then plummet downwards, but I’m sitting at the front strapped in and as soon as we drop I’ll raise my hands and enjoy that fucker knowing that momentum from the high will keep me going until the next click clacking rise.

So if you can chase enough peaks in the theme park of life the falls won’t be as scary. Yes some are shit and won’t help but you have an all-day pass so just wait on the next ride.

Plus there’s always candy floss while you wait.

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