The United States of Depression

The Fucked Up Part of it All

It's the 21st of February 2021, about 20 minutes to midnight, and I am opening my Wattpad for the first time in months. Not because I haven't wanted to write, but purely because I haven't had the time. Because shit happened. Because 2020 has been an absolutely shitty year. And believe it or not... That's not even the fucked up part of it all. 

Now... I'm just going to come out and say it:

I'm fucking 31 years old and still fucking fabulous!

Which probably also means that over 90% of my demographic on here, reading my books is about half my age. Yeah, when I was your age you were probably hanging around in the scrotum of some horny guy who you now think is old, unfair, and whom you call uncool, and on top of it adding the word "gross" to the adjectives that you would use to describe him. 

So yeah... Let me just put this into a bit more perspective for you. When I was 15 the internet wasn't actually a big thing yet, the cellphone just got a colour screen, and poly tones were the craze. Facebook was what you did when you fell asleep on your study guides in class. Instagram would have probably been some weird type of scale where you could instantly see how many grams the bubblegum in your pocket weight. (And yes, we probably would have wanted to know the weight of the bubblegum, because we had nothing else to fucking do!)

Okay... Let's put this in even more perspective. (Fuck, this is the point that I dread, because now I am starting to sound old, even by my standards.) 

I was in first grade when the first Tamagotchi's hit the market. I had two of them. (I was kinda spoiled so I was the first kid in the school to have one.) Just so you know, I can still remember tabloids running stories about us kids carrying around demons in our pockets. Which reminds me of Pokémon every afternoon at 4pm, which by the way I never missed. And I never wanted Pickachu. I wanted a Charmander. I can still remember what I was doing when I saw the Baby One More Time... music video for the first time. And just so you know, it actually premiered on Sabrina, The Teenage Witch. Which by the way, one of my son's friends was shocked that The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina wasn't an entirely new concept. I still owned Spice Girl sneakers, and I also had the ones with lights in the soles. I had highlights in my hair, my daily life was a Westlife soundtrack, and holding hands in public was a major thing! (I kissed my girlfriend (before I fucked out of the closet) in the middle of the main road, on the white stripe and got the town talking about it for weeks.) I was one of those "original" emo kids, and the black nails were scandalous. Every bellybutton piercing (which besides for your ears was the only one readily available) was blamed on Britney Spears, whom according to the tabloids was the bride of Satan himself. I sometimes wonder if that bloody preacher who had so much to say about Britney, now looks back and wonders if he jumped the gun with calling her the anti-christ now that Lady Gaga, Miley Cyrus, and Yungblud is on the scene. Gosh, I would love to be a fly on the wall that first moment he saw the music video for The Emperor's New Clothes by Panic! at the Disco. I mean, seriously... I grew up with Harry Potter. The last book came out when I was 17. I still remember waiting in line for it. I still have my old walkman. 

But yes. Enough about all of that. I think I made my point. I'm fucking old by the standards of the majority of people reading this. I mean I have a kid who is probably older than most of you. But I am here to tell you that it doesn't fucking matter. If you made it this far with my rambling, congratz. You probably deserve some sort of reward for not leaving immediately and unfollowing the old guy here on Wattpad. So let's just pretend for a second that some of you are staying here, reading through this pointless nonsense, hoping above all hope that I will at some time get to a fucking point about where I am going with this shitty piece of an essay. 

So let's get to the fucking point, shall we? 

Point 1: Being a private person, I have just decided to not give a shit anymore and also just splash my private journal all across Wattpad for all to see. Maybe it leaves some sort of legacy or what-not. Nope, not looking for pity at all. In actual fact, I have a pretty amazing life by most standards, and I am sure half of you have been through worse shit than me in your lives. (Yes, I read the comments and some of them make homelessness and rape seem like a fucking birthday party, so happy birthday to me, wipe off my tears, and let's get on with the show.) I just want to be able to express my own shit somewhere as well. Just being me. Just showing myself. And if you don't like it, then this would be the point to exit this and go and read one of my other stories, where you can fall into a tragedy that I promise will make you cry as you fall in love with some fictional, based on real life characters who together in some form or another portray the sob story of my life.