It's Kind of a Funny Story isn't my usual kind of book, to be honest. Its synopsis makes it clear from the get-go that it's a book about a character going through some tough times, which isn't usually my thing because I'm of the opinion that we go through enough tough times ourselves without watching or reading about other people having it too, but I have myself gone through depression and I thought, "Well, here's your chance to read about tough times you actually identify with."
And weirdly enough, especially for someone who runs out of the room with his index fingers stuck in his ears, screaming "LALALA, CAN'T HEAR YOU!", whenever the tragedies of the world are being discussed, I really did connect with Craig and his ordeal with depression. Mostly because despite the theme It's Kind of a Funny Story tackles, it never lets things get on the melodramatic end of the storytelling spectrum, but also because it is one of the most lovely and lighthearted books I have read to this day.
Depression is a weird little thing, because you can never really know when or why it started; you can't get tested and be diagnosed with it; you can't have an unsafe encounter with a really bad situation and boom, it's over, you have depression, no way to back out now. Depression is a weird thing that slithers in if you let it, but that's exactly the catch: it's all inside you, inside your head. Not because it's not true, or because you're making it up, but because that's exactly where it lies. I mean, at least this is what I think, I'm not a psychiatrist, a shrink, or anything like that, but from my personal experience, that's how it works.
And there was just an immensely helpful sense of relief or, I don't know, vindication, maybe, to read about Craig's time in a mental ward and realize that it wasn't just me who felt that, somebody understood. I mean, of course I know people who have gone through it as well, but for the most part, the way Craig dealt with his issues (or non-issues) was so similar to mine that I was staggered to realize that just as in the end he understood that problems are only as big as we make them to be, so did I.
I loved the time I spent inside his head, learning about his passion for map-making, for watching other people play videogames, then for studying hard. I understood him in his self-applied pressure to never waste a second and subsequently wasting all of them, to desperately cling to the things you have and at the same time distance yourself from them. I didn't spend days or weeks reading It's Kind of a Funny Story, just mere 48 hours, but in those hours I laughed, and cried, and felt the chills all over. I read about people with all sorts of problems, from self-mutilation to drug abuse, and despite them not being real and the irrelevancy of my endless sympathy (and empathy) for them, I loved every single one of them.
In the end, a book is just a book, but a book can nudge you in the right direction, and sometimes that's all you need. I don't know if I'll ever pick up It's Kind of a Funny Story again, or if I'll ever read another book like it, but I'm glad that, for these brief 48 hours, I felt like I had someone who understood me, and who made me understand that depression isn't this huge black hole you sometimes find yourself being sucked into; depression is just what happens when you forget to live.
So live.