Quick-fixes & Shortcuts

• Bronte O'donoghue, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2013

Please allow me to be an antidepressant. My own cure.
With the advances in society in todays day and age, one would think it were slightly possible. Probably not.
But if it were to happen, the days that I sit curled up at home, those days when I am all alone, well, there wouldn't be any of them. Not any longer.
I fear those days. When all I have is a hollowed out head. Empty of everything bar my own self-doubt. No one to talk to. Tell one person and soon suddenly an entire town knows.
Is there no limit to the human need for self superiority? No, stupid question. Just like all the other ones I ask.
Instead the cures given to us by the hands of society worsen conditions. Medications to make a person dull to the pain instead of overcoming it. Food or lack thereof to feed that nagging self-doubt. Vomiting to gain access to societies image of the perfect look.
Try to speak out or get out causes the judgment to intensify. ‘Did you here about that girl?’ , ‘Have you seen his wrists?’ Never a “Did you want to talk?” or an “I’m here for you.”
Pointing fingers instead of helping hands. The friendships seem to dissolve as quickly as positive thoughts. Then they act surprised when a person goes one step to far. Failed attempt at an out leaves the victim of self-hatred labelled with more problems then before. Succeed and you will be remembered for the beautiful soul ‘they always knew you were’.
Death doesn’t make you brave or a hero. Life doesn’t make you a coward or a loser.
We only allow ourselves to accept the love and help we think we deserve. What does that say about those that accept neither?
We all want that fairytale ending when everything miraculously works out for the best. Who wants to get upset over the smaller details of life?
Then there are those that romanticise the idea of having such negative thoughts. What reason is there for it to be considered as endearing? What kind of person thinks that being overwhelmed by the sheer prospect of continuing on, is a worthwhile personality trait? For some reason the only stories that seem to sell these days are the ones about a couple finding love with each other because one of them fells an irrepressible weight put on them by society, pulling them down. I mean, 'look at the girl, she looks so unhappy. You know, she is someone I could spend the rest of my life with, she looks like someone that could make me happy.' Really? This stuff sells? Not a reality.
Maybe everyone feels like that. Maybe not. Maybe we have grown numb to the feelings and thoughts of others. Happiness can only be felt by you. You don’t feel others suffering, you don’t realise it’s happening. You don’t care.
Ignorance is bliss. Is that why we ignore the needs of others to fill our own selfish desires? Or is it because we don’t feel we have the energy to help others when we can’t seem to even help ourselves.
There doesn't seem to be an answer to that. But if given the chance would we want to hear the answer, the confirmation of all that has been said? No. We would instead be wrapped in cotton wool balls of lies whilst the harsh truth tries to penetrate the deaf ears we have turned towards all that seeks to disrupt the hardly balanced society we have built around us.