Hi everyone,
I am 23 years old. I am not sure if I suffer from any form of depression officially or if I have any right to claim to be a depressive. I do not understand myself and I do not understand the world. Just when I think I am happy, sadness strikes and I become depressed over the smallest things, like people not saying thank you, when I do something for them; or like when I feel people around me, who are not genuine in the way they live; or when I approach people with good intentions, but I am pushed back with rudeness without being able to talk.
I have a problem. My problem is that I always believe people are watching me and judging me, in everything I do. I believe that people either think I am wonderful, or that they hate me. I believe that people are reading this right now and marvelling at me - even though I know that is not true - or hating me, for being megalomanic. I believe that I am the best and at the same time the worst. I believe that I am a devil and simultaneously a prophet.
There have been times when I have been extremely happy and a few hours later I am bottled up with rage.
I do my best not to hurt people and cannot recall the last time I even shouted at some one. I have discovered, that to be taken seriously at work, you have to be an a**hole, which I tried but failed miserably as it was not my character to be so. Funnily enough, I was seen as sharp, witty and hard-working, when doing so and yet, a few months before,on another job, I was myself: honest, polite, calm, friendly - nad the result: I was seen as being "slow" and incapable.
I am finishing off my degree and although I always achieve very high results, people assume I am stupid and they close their ears when I talk. This has crippled my confidence and now I have very little motivation.
However, this is not the only reason for my loss in motivation as I feel tired, lazy, useless, fake and uninterested, when I try to work. I am surrounded by lots of fake people - at least it seems to me - and it bites when they even talk. I hate it when people talk rubbish and I notice that I do it myself. As a result, I hate myself even more. The truth is, is that the people around me are probably not talking rubbish, but at least to me, it seems to be so.
The irony i