The Hilarious World of Depression

by John Moe

It’s hard to see a skyscraper from inside the skyscraper.”

I turn into a human version of a song by the Smiths.

We’ll laugh about how scary The Day After was, but we never recognize that we were raised in despair and probably handed it down to our kids and to later versions of ourselves.

Depression does its damage and then it hides, covering its tracks, making you think that it is not an illness, that you’re just bad and weird.

Only by being useful or talented, and receiving external recognition, would I achieve personhood. I couldn’t imagine a world where I was a worthwhile person by dint of mere existence; I felt like I needed to earn it and prove it every day. Don’t worry, this feeling went away after only several decades.

When you’re raised in a situation where you need it, denial goes beyond coping mechanism status, surpasses instinct, and becomes reality itself. I’m still terrible at picking up on clues. Every M. Night Shyamalan movie twist is a revelation to me.

Comedy is intoxicating to a young mind in distress. You see these famous people pointing out the ridiculousness of a world that you’ve never been able to make sense of. Comedians offer the hope, the chance, however slim, that it’s not you that’s broken but the world. And they dress up in cool clothes! And hang out with various late-night hosts named Jimmy! And they make people laugh, and those people then love them. I can’t say for certain that depression leads people to a career in comedy, but it seems like the path is smoothly paved and well lit.

Acting offered everything that the real world didn’t: I always knew what I would say and what others would say to me, I knew exactly how everyone felt about me/my character; there was no danger of anyone figuring out the dark secrets of what a weirdo I was.