Today I managed to get viciously, bitterly envious of other mental illnesses. Like the bipolar. Everybody loves those assholes, they're sooo much fun. Twats.
Yeah, yeah, I know. Except when they're not fun. Sure. Except when they're hiding in a darkened room because they think they're being watched. Except when they're gibbering in the corner or throwing a brick through your window or sobbing in the bath.
But people will mostly remember how much fun they are.
Depressives though? No-one like a depressive. Not even another depressive. Not even the actual depressive themselves. Which I guess is the whole point, if there is a point which there isn't because this is a meaningless and infinite and cold universe which cares not a jot for your successes or failures or mediocrities or other mediocrities or yet more mediocrities or.. well, you get my (mediocre) point.
Those 'fun' crazies? Fuck 'em.