the paradox of addictive depression

i'm a mess. 

i thank my job and my family for keeping me together. but without a pre-determined obligatory schedule, without other people keeping the home in order, i probably would end up in the streets.

i'm naturally unmotivated. i give up easily. i don't derive a huge deal of delight from life's pleasures. the term for it is "depression", and that topic is a pummeled paste from what previously was a dead horse. in all likelihood, without the external pressures of a workday or the nurturing commitment of a household, my days would be spent aimlessly anticipating for the next sunset.

i have a natural tendency for addiction. i have difficulty divesting from dependence. once i get started, i jump head first into becoming a junkie. i've seen myself build tolerance to psychoactive substances. i can always tell when the usual dose isn't doing it for me anymore. good thing i posses a combination of rudimentary medical knowledge and sufficient self-awareness. if i were a normal person, i would've looked for a way to up the dosage to get the hit i've known and loved.

but i'm not a normal person.

i'm a mess.

i'm the type of person that once the ball gets rolling, i come barreling down. but i'm also the type of person that, at any time, will fizzle out.

good thing the world is kind enough to keep people like me alive. cause i sure as hell don't see the point.