Yup, that's right. I took all the necessary steps; I told my family about it, I tried to distance myself from the thoughts, I read up on my religion, I did everything I needed to. I've graduated depression!
...So, why does it still suck?
What is the deal with this black pit in my stomach? Why does it still rule my thoughts? Why can't I get one moment of peace without it reminding me of how meaningless human originality is, or bringing up the religion debate at the slightest mention of God (or any god, or faith, or morality, or whatever...)? Why is this still happening?
Is it because my life is at the same standstill it was two months ago? Is depression like bedsores, where you need to move around and switch it up or else you get an emotional rash? You know, I think it might be. I mean, think about it: Nothing new has been happening to me, so I've been retreating to the internet for my dose of novelty. Now that that's worn off, and I see through it, my brain is getting bored, which means it's got to gut punch me and remove most of the enjoyment out of everything I used to like doing. Cool reaction, brain!
...Maybe that's not it. Maybe I have to find an answer to my religious questions more than the answers I've already found and tried to digest. Maybe this will just go away on its own.
Or maybe this is just permanent.
That's not a fun thing to consider, because this is the worst fucking feeling I've ever felt in my life. Even on the better days, there's this devil in my brain that wants to ruin my fun, and I'm just batting him off, trying to think about other things and being impressed every time I go more than 5 minutes without crushing my soul with these useless fucking ideas.
Yeah, useless ideas. The unoriginality of man, the stagnation of my life, the inevitable struggle of doubt and belief, they may be valid ideas, but, to quote C. S. Lewis, they are "Anything but useful." What good does it do for a man to linger on these things, to have them permeate his every thought and deed? They are but nuisances, irritating you by overstaying their welcome after "enlightening" you. They ought to be accepted, sure, but we are not consumed with the sky's blueness in every waking hour. They should be considered on occasion, and kept out when we want to have fun.
Ah, what a relief. Writing is a form of therapy, I tell ya.