Using Cheese Whiz to explain Suicidal thoughts [[An excerpt from a larger story]]

This is an excerpt from a larger story that I have yet to write. I’m hoping that it’ll fit in the dark humor category. I’ll be releasing a few excerpts here and there, not in chronological order, but they are all part of my depression story.

February, 2014

I don’t think I’ll ever understand fighting for something you don’t even want.

Everyone else wants it for you, so you keep trying to want it, too. I still don’t want it.

I gave Joseph an example once.

“You hate cheese whiz, right?”

“With a passion, yes.”

“Well imagine if you told your loved ones that you hate it, and they all got overly emotional and concerned with your anti cheese-whiz choice. So they send you to a hospital that feels like a prison, and stick you in group therapy where people talk about how good cheese whiz is, and they make you take little capsules of cheese whiz every day.”

He flinched. I was finally starting to reveal myself to him in a way he understood.

“Truth is you really want to like cheese whiz to make everyone happy, but you just fucking hate it.”

I know part of him slightly got where I was coming from, but he refused to give me any credit for my wonderful cheese whiz metaphor in fear that I might think it’s a green light to “give up on cheese whiz”.

“It’s not even remotely the same thing. Me not liking cheese whiz doesn’t effect anyone else.”

We sat in a tense silence. He stared off into nowhere.

“Well… it effects the Kraft Cheese Corporation.”

He was not amused.



What's the word, Larry Bird?

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