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Jesus, I’m depressed for no apparent reason. Granted, I pissed off someone I love, am worried to death about a couple of others I love, and am losing my sweet corner office with the window this week, but I’m not in Japan. I’m not losing my house or trying to fed my kids or anything. Shit, I don’t even have kids, just a boyfriend and a few pets. I could do whatever I want. I’m completely embarrassed to be depressed. It’s times like these that I realize that depression is actually a chemical thing, not just a mental weakness. My therapist used to say, when I used to indulge in therapy, that I have been depressed for a long time. That could be so, but because there is no reason to be – other than being about as generally unhappy as most people – I refuse to address it. I bottle it, then one day that shit blows and I take all of my anger and frustration out on someone I love in one massive vomit of bull kaka. I think writing it out makes me feel better, lots better… I’m just so pissed that I have to be this way. It feels spoiled and stupid and miserable. I always give my band shit when they complain – after all, they are rock stars. They spend their days traveling and their nights being worshiped. It’s hard to feel sorry for them… but everyone has misery. Everyone, even the richest, most evil fuck you know, is human and has sorrows. I can hate myself for it all I want, but I can’t stop it.

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