When someone with depression falls…

In honor of Halloween I’ve been watching scary movies with my younger brother. The usual. Scream, Halloween, etc. We came across a documentary called “Nova: Mind of a Rampage Killer.” We decided to give it a shot as I’ve always been interested in that kind of thing.

I didn’t realize that it would scare and sadden me as much as it did.

I guess I never really made the connection. How similarly my life and the lives of many disturbed killers started out. The blueprint copy of my childhood and the shared diagnoses make me feel uneasy to say the least. They spoke of infamous rampage killer cases such as Eric Harris and Dylan Klebold of the Columbine Massacre. I knew that they were pretty obsessed with violence in the media, and I knew that they killed themselves after the shooting.

I didn’t know that Dylan Klebold wrote daily in his journals about the crippling depression that he faced and the constant thirst for suicide he tried to ignore.

I know what that feels like. I have felt the same exact way.

I was abused and neglected in my childhood. It doesn’t hurt nearly as much as it used to, but I will be honest, it’s not something I think I’ll ever be able to completely move on from.

What is to be said about depression and how it relates to violence? I just crawled out of my rut around 3 months ago. That is not exactly a long time. Actually, my rut lasted longer than that. 10 months or so. Before that it was somewhere around 10 years of this lingering sadness and rage that I couldn’t understand.

I really want to do more research on where the line is. What separates me from a killer? Did medication save me? Were they on medication? Was there some kind of hereditary gene?

This isn’t the first time I’ve wondered if I’m capable of such terrible things. My father is currently serving a twelve year sentence for sexual assault on a minor.

As much as I hate to say it, his blood runs through my veins.

So if a lot of merciless killers start out with broken homes and depression and my father is a merciless sexual offender, where does that leave me?

Sure, sure people say not to compare yourself to others, but when they want you to feel motivated they have no problem to comparing you to other people that are already where you want to be.

So basically that’s a load of crap.

I’m going to compare myself because this is my life. I have control over it. But what I’m smart enough to know is that I don’t necessarily have control over my mind.

In fact, I have to take a drug every day to help me function normally in the world. If I stopped taking them I could kill myself or become aggressive and hurt all of the people I care about the most.

I could end it all in one swift motion.

I’m sorry if that’s scary to anyone, but it’s just what’s swirling around my mind at the moment.

I’m going to do more research and then write another post. Maybe this is me trying to ensure myself that I’ll be okay. Maybe I’m just bored with being okay.

See why I decided to make a separate blog for 8 cities 8 years? Don’t want my aunt who just wants to keep up with my travels to see me comparing myself to my fucked up father and notorious mass murderers.


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