Dear Depression

Dear Depression,

Good morning, oh you’re not up yet? I’ll come back later then.




Ok, I can’t wait for you anymore. You know, out there, life is going on. Look. Just untangle your gangly limbs from the stale bedsheets and glimpse out that grotty window. See that? There’s a light out there depression. Stop closing the drapes on me. I want that light. And you won’t let me out.

Where’s the key? I want out. The walls are too close in here, and that ceiling’s too low. Your making me claustrophobic. I want out.

I’m sick of you never wanting to get up. And have you seen the sink? The dishes need washing. The clothes need hanging up. Food needs cooking. Things need to be done! But you wallow here in your squalor whining about how life is too difficult for you.

Suit up. Wash that strawy, oily, knotted up hair, think about the idea if shaving, and open a god damn window. You’ve been hiding under those blankets for too long.

You know what the worst thing is? I’m better than this. You’re like dragging around a twenty pound weight on my chest and a fire cracker in my brain.

It’s time now. Please. I need to find happy again. You chased him away. I know you fight with him all the time, but you’re not good for me. You’re the ice cream in my freezer, the pizza boxes in my recycling, the cigarettes in my pocket. You’re ever-present and ever-annoying. I don’t want you anymore.

I don’t know how to get rid of you. You’re like a virus my body can’t fix. Your the anti-healthy the anti-happy and the anti-me.


Leave, now, and please, never come back.


Don’t shudder and crawl down in your cosy little hole. That’s pathetic. Stop being so pathetic and childish and look at how you’re affecting the friends, the family and me. You’re a useless rotten piece of junk.

Tell me. Tell me what to do to get rid of you and I’ll do it.











I’ll do whatever it takes…..





Forever yours,
At least for the moment.

This post is in response to Daily Prompt’s Challenge which, if you’re interested you can read here! I suggest following them, becasue they give GREAT ideas to blog on. Till next time,


Feelings and Other Nightmares

Just before you settle yourself with a nice glass of scotch, because, lets be honest, that’s the only way people can handle reading my posts, and get ready to ho-hum your way though another one of my amusingly depressing posts, I have to say: It’s about to get uncomfortable in here.

That’s right people, the girl who’s main thought on discussing ‘feelings’ hovers somewhere between squeamishly uncomfortable and downright eye-socket-tearingly awful, is about to do just that. Not tear eye sockets, talk about feelings. Well briefly note on the horrid idea that I do indeed have these stupid human emotions that mean I feel stuff. Unfortunately.

I suppose the want to extract my innards with a pickax when dealing with the public is technically a feeling. But you’re about to see what I mean. People, I’m about to mention my boyfriend.

Cringe, I know.

See me and my boyfriend fight. A lot, the reason is because we have ‘creative differences’ I have all these opinions of things and he is wrong.

Well that sums it up pretty much, but here is all you, and I, need to know about my boyfriend:

He loves me, and this sometimes squashes that ‘the world is an abysmal place filled with things that want me to take a rusty spork to my jugular’ feeling

Now that may not seem like the greatest achievement known to man, but in my books, he ain’t half bad.

Unlike my English skills witch are that half bad*

Now you may have gotten to this part of the post and are wondering ‘Yes, great thanks, but why bring this up you useless humanoid?’ – by the by i assume my readers are all not of the humanoid species and therefore have no concept of the ‘like’ and ‘follow’ buttons, so while I appreciate my human readers I do have to cater to a wider audience

So, to point, the reason for this post is because I got into a fight with my boyfriend, over not waiting to get into a fight. Hopeless isn’t it. And its not one of those cute fights like ‘you hang up first’ ‘no you’ ‘no you’. Which, by the way, we do not have. If ‘The Boyfriend’ ever tells me to hang up I’m gone, sometimes sooner much to his annoyance. So yeah. we’re fighting and I’m too proud (not to mention right) to text or call him and fix the situation, so I have to do this whole blog (even though he’ll never read it because I refuse to tell him my blog address) just to remind myself why I shouldn’t break up with him, and the worst part is he thinks this is just a fight that’ll blow over. He never guesses how close I come to leaving every time he does something that hurts me. Well that’s a melodramatically depressing ending, I think I feel a real blog post coming on.
*Yes. that is on purpose, even the ‘witch’ ok? I’m not that stupid.

PS Sorry for the long post!

Forever yours,

At least for the moment


The Epidemy of Epidemy… and Stupidness

Do you know what its like to be miserable? Truly utterly miserable. Like even though you are in the middle of a public place you just want to cry in a corner and have every single person in the entire wold just go jump off a fucking cliff.

I’m not talking about miserable in the ‘upset’ sense. Like in a passing, if a loved one passes away, that’s distraught. I’m talking miserable. Like huge cloud is hanging over your head waiting for something good to happen so it can soak up all your happiness and take it away, because fuck you.

Well thanks.

If you’ve read some of my posts today you may think me Bi-Polar. I was ‘happy’ before. I may have even used the word ‘Elated’ in a post. Premature friends. you know me. I’m back in all my impressively and extensively depressing ways hating on the universe again for making me exist. Hey. Come pity me because i have to put up with the scum of the earth and smile while i do it.

You know what the worst part about being miserable is? like there’s a worst part but whatever. Society doesn’t accept it. Apparently, no, I’m not allowed to have a huge mental breakdown wherever i may be when I realise that life actually is an abysmal pit of horror and unending trivialities.


Why does the world insist I continue with this charade of happiness and ‘togetherness’

I don’t want to. I want to sulk and be a little girl and not go to work and not pay bills and just NOT. I hate it I hate it all wahh whine whinge.

Aren’t I just the epitome of everything wonderful?


Forever yours,

At least for the moment

Testing My Amazing Talents

So I was indulging in a little time reading ‘Freshly Pressed’ You know what I’m talking about. See I call it indulging because for some reason (It could be my arrogantly hipster Melbourne roots) I enjoy reading blogs that are far less mainstream. It hurts I know. I don’t do these things on purpose, trust me. I’m not trying to be hipster, i just, gah! whatever. Hate me. even more because to prove I’m not ‘hipster’ I like One Direction* yes the ‘band’, hate me even more. But I’m tangent-ing.

Oh you don’t even know how great of a segway that is. This post is about a new way for me to tangent. Get excited people. Tangents rock. And now i can organise my tangents in these cool little ‘pages’ tabs down the bottom. Yay funess. Isn’t it great how my normally depressing demeanor is completely eradicated when there’s something new and fun to play with. Get me a puppy!

Sorry. So yes. Tangents.* Oh speaking of tangents (moment to love that segway) i was saying earlier how i indulged in Freshly Pressed, the reasoning will be on a following page. If it works. I realise that this post is incredibly indulgent but hey, that’s your fault for reading a blog entitled My amazing talents. So you sort of set yourself up for that didn’t you. Well Done.

So yeah… I cant label the pages yet, cause contrary to popular belief I did not study at the perfect school for perfect people. So i shall leave a little guide at the bottom. Also that means you can skip the pages you don’t like. specifically my One Direction page. I know you. You’ll skip it.

Page 1. This page… i assume

Page 2. One Direction

Page 3. Freshly Pressed

Page 4. Tangents

Do I Get Brownie Points For That?

I had my crazy ‘Gatsby’ parties and I sure can do a mean tequila fulled sing-a-long to basically any song from the late 90’s. My problem is I’m 22 and already I start my wild nights with ‘I was watching the block*…’ Don’t get me wrong I can handle myself in a fight with a bottle of vodka, it’s just, I have too many ‘things’ to think about. Before it was always F the consequences, ill be right. But now its, i cannot afford rent, electricity, food, petrol AND a glass of bourbon, which can i do without?

Turns out bourbon is low on my priorities now. Apparently at 22, having a semi-decent roof above my head is more important than being ‘slizzered’ Never thought the day would come when I would look at the clock and grumble that i had too much work to do so, no, as much as i wanted i could not snuggle into bed before 10.30pm.

My ‘all-nighters’ turned into ‘all-night shifts’ and my ‘hangover headaches’ turned into ‘i haven’t had a decent sleep in weeks’, headaches.

And I don’t even have any kids. That’s the problem with studying again. I have a bachelors degree, but i am doing an extra year because apparently i am a god damn idiot. So now all i do is work and school stuff and time to go out? HA. bless your cotton socks and get off my lawn you whippernapper i need me some beauty sleep. Or just some sleep will do me, I’ve learned to give up.

Do I at least get points because I used to be cool? Extra because I also have a hidden tattoo? Good. I’m so keeping score.

*If you’ve never heard of the block, or house rules if you’re a seven watcher, then your nights suck regardless. Seriously, its mind numbing crap TV, which makes for great TV that i will watch until i feel mind numbed enough to face life again.

Also if you’re not from the land of things that try to kill you, (Australia) and seriously have no idea what the block is, its like a home reno show where couples have to renovate houses, or apartments and ‘deliver’ one room a week. Although most of the time i think they just argue with themselves and each other until magically on the seventh day the rooms are complete. TV magic. love it.

By the way, this post was originally in response to thekidshavegonetoschool’s post ‘Who am I?’ which you can read in all its glory right here

Forever yours,
At least for the moment


Stick a Fork in Me, I’m Done

Have you ever had that feeling, deep down in the pit if your stomach that something just isn’t right? I can tell you what that is.


If you expect me to go on some magical discovery with you as to the meaning if this ‘ambitious’ hunger, you have come to the wrong blog. The wonders and majesty of the world is lost in the hollow pit of oblivion that is my rather negative outlook on our human existence.

I mean real hunger. Like make me a burger, slather on some sauce and hand me a coke because if I don’t get to chomp on the carcass of a dead animal soon I’m going to cut off your hand and chow down on that bad boy.

Seriously. What happened to ‘I’m hungry’ why do I have to eat when work says ‘you may take a break now’
Even hitler let his soldiers eat when they were hungry.
I assume.

I can’t say I know for sure, but his soldiers seemed pretty devoted so I assume it has something to do with his less than strict food regime. Or maybe he bribed them with cookies. Maybe we’ll never know. One of the great mystery of life, you know?

No. That’s not me pondering on the majesty of existence. Get your head out of the proverbial gutter you swine and come wallow in the agonising pain that is an unquenchable hunger for real god damn food.

Preferably something that has had a heartbeat at one stage in its noble life.

Sorry vegos. I’m a hardcore carnivore with a taste for rare steaks and the flesh of things that once felt something likeable to affection.

Mmm delicious feelings.

Hate me if you want but I am hungry, and you can’t judge a person by their behaviour while hungry. That’s just inhumane.

Forever yours,

At least for the moment.