Never say something the person sat infront of you doesn't understand.

This WILL happen often.
You WILL have to pick your vocabulary carefully because otherwise the person your talking to won't understand.
In essence you WILL have to "dumb-down" to speak to people.

If you continually have to do this you WILL gradually become one of "them"
Then you WILL hate yourself.
And you WILL never be the same.

And...CUT.

I spend more time in fiction than in reality. Fiction keeps me sane and despite of its obvious title, offers hope of somewhere better.
More than 70% of my day is spent reading or watching or drawing something or someone else. I'm liable myself to become fiction- I'd love that.

Reality is just too brash and fiction-like but without the adventure and chance to make things better. Its all just stage.
And I feel like I'm one of the only ones on it without a script.
There's hundreds watching, even more acting and... I don't know what to say.
I want to scream, "Stop this isn't what you want, this isn't who you are", but my mouths dry and there's a lump in my throat stifling every word.

So I freeze.

But maybe I'm not the only one frozen.
What about all those people out there rebelling.
Standing out.
I can see it now the lost little emo kid holding the knife to his wrist while he crys-
The scene goes on next line, next line, prompt-
And he doesnt want to do it but he feels like he's imploding-
And they act, its the finale scene of the act, and then the curtains go down, the crew finish and the director shouts-
The boys turns away and squints, the tears clinging to his eyelashes, the metal cold against his pearl-white skin and-

CUT.

Rewind. My head hurts.

Until very recently I believe I have been suffering from undiagnosed depression.
This might be true. Most likely it is. But I don't want it to be.
How could I have had depression?
My perception of depression is constant tears and on the edge of suicide- was that really me.
Did that actually happen to me or is this some distorted idea my mind has created -doubtful.

It wasn't me.

I'm not that person anymore.
I'm a work in process and the depression was a process.
It made me who I am today but it's not me.
The person I was yesterday is not necessarily who I am today, who I am to one person is definately not who I am to another. Follow me- no me neither.

Is anyone one person?

Rewind. My head hurts.
So the previous me, the me I've been for the past two years had depression.
In reflection all I feel in sadness.
And waste.
So much waste.
Now I'm different. Its not depression I have just a prolonged sense of restlessness- a very prolonged sense.
In my mind I'm in exile or I'm a prisoner serving time for a crime I had no knowledge of. I've nearly done my time.
Its a daunting prospect. I've got so many plans and it only recently occurred to me that they may be too big, too drastic.
But I'm not like them. I'm not going to accept things for what they are and just get along with it.
I want to live not survive.
I never did understand everyone else.
How can they do nothing?
What kind of people don't try to make the world a better place?