Depression and everything like it

Jealousy is the lifeblood of a self-loather. It is Tourettes without the ticks. Unless you classify snooping in your significant other's phone as a tick. A jealous person thinks to herself or himself. Why wouldn't they cheat on me? I'm not exceptionally intelligent or interesting or successful and there are so many other options at the tips of their fingers. And after all, people do cheat sometimes. What is there to love where I am concerned? I'd like to write comedy but I'm not particularly funny. I'd like to tell stories that expose truths but I'm not particularly savvy on the day's hot button issues. When I read books I proudly adorn them on my shelf but I couldn't discuss them with you. I can hardly remember them while I'm reading them, let alone months or years later. If you want to make me sweat ask me what my favorite movie or album is in a group setting. Even the so called "classics", go right through me like water through a tube. I don't have takeaways or quotables, and you better believe the symbolism went right over my head. And I guess I could google what it all was supposed to mean, what my takeaways should have been but you know, it would only make me further depressed for not catching it the first time. When I go on a hike with someone I will often say "I'm hungry" or "I'm thirsty" when I am not. Just to make conversation because otherwise I have nothing to say, and when I go on a hike alone my head, my thoughts, my fears, won't shut the fuck up. This isn't me, or at least it isn't me all of the time. But with depression, this is who I become.