They call it depression, but what it really is is “your society hates you, wants to hurt you, wants to exploit you, doesn’t want to offer you a good life, and wants you separated from your loved ones in every way possible.”
“Depression” is the disease of modernity. “Depression” is another word for “capitalist exploitation crossed with bureaucratic domination crossed with distance from the social center.”
Depression is what you feel when you are at war with the world but you have no power or weapons with which to fight it.
Depression is ruthless. I am trying to fight it off but I feel often these days as if I am staring into a giant black empty with no way out, just everything that I know is impending, a silent maelstrom hurtling toward me from the edges of time, set to annihilate everything I care about and am without a word or thought, in passing.
The old fight has been beaten out of me by those I care most about. But when you lose the fight, you have nothing left to fight with. At least attacking windmills feels like an attempt at self-preservation, rather than concession.
I hate humanity with a certain dangerous passion.
In particular right now, I hate America, since it is America and her horde of blundering, subhuman “citizens” that violate me, their own child—that are licking their lips in anticipation of destroying me and my family in an act of narcissistic triumphal, nihilistic vengeance, simply for being better in every way than they are.