In Which I Talk About Depression

Content notice: Depression, self-harm, suicide, abuse.

Irrelevant as it may seem, depression is a topic that has floated around the video game circles I lurk in for a while now, but never broken the surface for long. I don’t have anything half as beautiful as Jenn Frank’s piece on death, but there is a lot I could say about my own experiences. So:

Depression is Shit and I Hate it.

I may live on until
I long for this time
In which I am so unhappy,
And remember it fondly.

—Fujiwara No Kiyosuke, I May Live On
Translated by Kenneth Rexroth

I was 19 the first time someone said “I love you”. I didn’t ask “what about your husband?”; I asked “why?”.

It wasn’t some vain attempt to fish for compliments. I honestly couldn’t get my head around the concept. She’d spent weeks being nice to me, even in front of other people, and until we kissed I had honestly assumed she was taking the piss.

It was that bad once.

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Regarding league tables

“The State set up a machinery of examination both in Science and Art and for the elementary schools; and payments, known technically as grants, were made in accordance with the examination results attained, to such schools as Providence might see fit to send into the world. In this way it was felt the Demand would be established that would, according to the beliefs of that time, inevitably ensure the Supply. An industry of “Grant earning” was created, and this would give education as a necessary by-product.

In the end this belief was found to need qualification, but Grant-earning was still in full activity when I was a small boy. So far as the Science and Art Department and my father are concerned, the task of examination was entrusted to eminent scientific men, for the most part quite unaccustomed to teaching. You see, if they also were teaching similar classes to those they examined, it was feared that injustice might be done. Year after year these eminent persons set questions and employed subordinates to read and mark the increasing thousands of answers that ensued, and having no doubt the national ideal of fairness well developed in their minds, they were careful each year to re-read the preceding papers before composing the current one, in order to see what it was usual to ask. As a result of this, in the course of a few years the recurrence and permutation of questions became almost calculable, and since the practical object of the teaching was to teach people not science, but how to write answers to these questions, the industry of Grant-earning assumed a form easily distinguished from any kind of genuine education whatever. ”

H.G. Wells
The New Machiavelli
(Published 1911)

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Doo De Doo Doo Doo, say office tossers

Doo de doo doo doo, according to office tossers around the country today.

“La da dah dah dah, dah dee do dah dah dah do” said Marcus Dylan, an administrative twat from Staines, echoing similar calls across the country. The message comes at a time when other assistant halfwits are saying “hmm hmm hmmm hm hmmmm hm, hmmmm hm hmmm hm hmmmmm, baba bah bah bahdapbah”, despite widespread warnings of the dangers of excessive bellendery.

Regional pisswick Paul Hampton agreed. “La la lalalala, la da la la laa”, he explained, adding a series of sharp, tuneless exhalations, as his general inanity was echoed by designated office arseholes everywhere.

Ordinary grown up humans declined to comment.

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British Insomniacs demand New Auschwitz

Insomniacs across Britain are uniting under calls for an Auschwitz-style camp for immigrants following controversial remarks by UKIP leader Nigel Farage.

The remarks took place during a live interview for LBC, throughout which millions of dogs were inexplicably howling, and described Farage’s apparent suspicion of Romanian immigrants. He went on to invite LBC’s James O’Brien to “come and meet UKIP’s black and ethnic candidate”, who senior party sources reports is nicknamed “Darky. It’s not a racist thing, we’ve just noticed he has much darker skin than any of us”. Farage today issued an open letter apologising for the remarks, which he attributed to being a bit sleepy.

Critics have called the apology “pathetic”, “ridiculous”, and even “wait did he really try to prove he’s not racist by saying the Metropolitan Police agree with him?” But today millions of chronically sleep-deprived individuals stood up to support Farage, and express their lack of culpability for holding phenomenally racist views.

Chronic insomniac Jan Davis said, “Whenever I have a sleepness night, I inevitably start to view all foreigners with the kind of deep distrust most healthy people associate with estate agents. It’s only natural, and rather than address that we’d rather pursue political campaigns against millions of innocent people. We’re not asking for much, just the wholesale genocide of anyone who wasn’t born in Britain.

“Except the Germans, obviously. That’s different. And not just because my family is German, or anything.”

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