#depress

I'm actually not a big fan of the word hope. I think it's a depressing word. I don't want to hope - I want to know. Like I don't hope there's a God, I know there's a God. ↗

— Kelly Clarkson

#big #big fan #depressing #fan #god

If I had not been already been meditating, I would certainly have had to start. I've treated my own depression for many years with exercise and meditation, and I've found that to be a tremendous help. ↗

— Judy Collins

#been #certainly #depression #exercise #found

I find nothing more depressing than optimism. ↗

— Paul Fussell

#find #i #more #nothing #optimism

I used to be good friends with my depression, saying oh I'm so depressed, or life is terrible. ↗

— Tony Curtis

#depression #friends #good #good friends #i

This is the great lesson the depressive learns: Nothing in the world is inherently compelling. Whatever may be really “out there” cannot project itself as an affective experience. It is all a vacuous affair with only a chemical prestige. Nothing is either good or bad, desirable or undesirable, or anything else except that it is made so by laboratories inside us producing the emotions on which we live. And to live on our emotions is to live arbitrarily, inaccurately—imparting meaning to what has none of its own. Yet what other way is there to live? Without the ever-clanking machinery of emotion, everything would come to a standstill. There would be nothing to do, nowhere to go, nothing to be, and no one to know. The alternatives are clear: to live falsely as pawns of affect, or to live factually as depressives, or as individuals who know what is known to the depressive. How advantageous that we are not coerced into choosing one or the other, neither choice being excellent. One look at human existence is proof enough that our species will not be released from the stranglehold of emotionalism that anchors it to hallucinations. That may be no way to live, but to opt for depression would be to opt out of existence as we consciously know it. ↗

— Thomas Ligotti

#emotion #the-horror #experience

Some people say my work is often depressing and pessimistic, with the emphasis on death, blood, overcrowding, strange beings and so on, but I don't really think it is. ↗

— H. R. Giger

#blood #death #depressing #emphasis #i

Every age yearns for a more beautiful world. The deeper the desperation and the depression about the confusing present, the more intense that yearning. ↗

— Johan Huizinga

#age #beautiful #confusing #deeper #depression

Two and a half years ago I’d learned to stop wanting comfort from the people around me, because they couldn’t give it. We were all too scared. I was terrified and so were they. No one could understand what was happening to me, and when they couldn’t make me better they felt helpless and guilty and eventually resentful. Yes, they loved me, my head knew that even if my heart couldn’t feel it, but there was a small part of them that was angry. As if it was my choice to become depressed and that I was deliberately resisting the medication that was meant to fix me. ↗

— Marian Keyes

#family

Alright, so I'm a manic depressive. What do you want from me? ↗

— Claire Forlani

#depressive #i #manic #me #want

Lately, though, he'd just been tired in general. Tired of people. Tired of books and TV and the nightly news and songs on the radio he'd heard years before and hadn't liked much in the first place. He was tired of his clothes and tired of his hair and tired of other people's clothes and other people's hair. He was tired of wishing things made sense. He'd gotten to a point where he was pretty sure he'd heard everything anyone had to say on any given subject and so it seemed he spent his days listening to old recordings of things that hadn't seemed fresh the first time he'd heard them. Maybe he was simply tired of life, of the absolute effort it took to get up every goddamned morning and walk out with into the same fucking day with only slight variations in the weather and food. He wondered if this was what clinical depression felt like, a total numbness, a weary lack of hope. ↗

— Dennis Lehane

#food