Ah,
Look at you,
Being frustrated with your depression.
You tried talking to it.
You tried giving it space.
You tried cleaning up its mess.
It's like trying to raisin with a brick wall while you're standing in the rain.
It's not gonna change.
It's a squatter and you're the one holding the deed to the house.
Why are you asking it if it wants to move out?
In the Zen tradition.
We don't negotiate with the ego.
We acknowledge it.
Then we stop feeding it.
Every time you ruminate.
You're just paying the squatter's electricity bill.
Stop paying.
Stop the dialogue.
You don't need to fix the depression.
You need to stop providing it with a comfortable place to sit.
You haven't outgrown the room.
You've outgrown the need for this drama.
You're holding on to the depression because it's familiar.
It's a comfortable,
Shitty old chair you refuse to throw out.
Because you know how to sit in it.
You're not sharing the space.
You're hiding in the closet while the squatter trashes your life.
Look at the space.
It's not yours or the depression's.
It's just existence.
Stop defining yourself by the tenant.
The tenant is a transient event.
You are the building.
The building doesn't care who's sitting on the couch.
You don't need to take major actions.
You don't need a grand plan to be happy.
You just need to realize.
That you're allowed to leave the house.
You can just walk out.
The door isn't locked.
You're the only one who thinks you're trash.
What if the heavy weight was just a bad habit you forgot to quit?
What if you stopped thinking about it?
Not trying to stop,
But by realizing it's not interesting enough to keep track of.
It's just noise.
You're not cruising towards the future.
You're sitting in your living room,
Staring at a squatter.
Get in the car.
Start the engine.
The car doesn't care if the house is a mess.
Drive somewhere else.
Stop trying to understand your depression.
It's not a riddle to be solved.
It's a distraction to be ignored.
If you keep looking for the meaning in your misery,
You're just giving it more power.
You're the one with the keys.
The keys are in your pocket.
Use them.
I'm done.
The house is empty.
Or it's not.
It doesn't matter.
You're already halfway down the driveway.
If you catch yourself thinking about the squatter.
Remind yourself.
That you don't even remember their names.
It's just a ghost.
Now go outside.
The air is actually quite good today.
Don't look back.
It's a waste of perfectly good walking time.