A Conversation Between My Manic And My Depression


Manic: HI, HI, HI!!!

Depression: Oh fuck, it’s you again.

Manic: Are you busy!??!

*Depression looks around*

Depression: Uh, well, I guess not…

Manic: Okay, so, I’ve been meaning to tell you!! I Googled smallest hummingbird and it’s the bee hummingbird. And yes, you guessed it, those little guys are barely bigger than a bee. Isn’t that interesting?!

Depression: Not really.

Manic: SORRY, thought it was cool. What the fuck crawled up your ass and died?

My future.

Manic: Hon, this is not a good look. Let’s go out. Drinks are on me.

Depression: No thanks, I’m gonna rewatch this episode of Friends for the 135973895th time.

Manic: Were you always this lame?

Depression: Yes.

Manic: C’mon! Just ooooone lil’ night. I swear, you’re going to have so much fun.

Depression: I highly doubt that.

Manic: When have I ever steered you wrong?

Depression: Um, do you have an hour to spare? Actually hold on, I’ll just print out your latest bank statement and we’ll go from there.

Manic: You’re such a Debbie Downer.

Depression: I’m literally missing some serotonin, of course I’m a downer.

Manic: Would you let me change your hair? It might help.

You don’t get it.

Manic: No, you don’t.

Depression: Can you just leave me alone?

No, I can’t. I can’t leave you alone. You’re always alone. If you were any more alone you’d be…uh, you’d be —

Depression: Emily Dickinson.

Manic: God, you’re so pretentious.

What?? She’s a famous introvert who avoided real social interaction!

Manic: And you want that to be you?

Depression: That’s not what I said.

Manic: So, what do you want?

Depression: I don’t know. And I think, I don’t know, maybe —

Manic: You think that’s the problem?

Depression: Well, yeah. I mean, look at you! You’re flying in a thousand different directions but at least you’ve got a direction to go. I’m running this hamster wheel just so people think I’m doing something.

Manic: I think I’m great.

I know you do.

Manic: I think you’re great, too.

Depression: Oh god, please. I don’t need your fake compliments.

Manic: No, I mean it. There’s something about you I envy.

Depression: My ability to not shower for great lengths of time?

Manic: Seriously. I think you’re brave.

Depression: That’s the last thing I am.

Manic: You’re brave because you don’t always see tomorrow, but you get up anyway. Okay, you don’t have a plan or an idea of where you want to go, but you wake up regardless. There’s a bravery to that. There’s a strength to you that I admire.

Depression: I’ve always been envious of you.

Manic: Me?

Depression: Of course. You’re a crazy asshole, sure. But you’re the life of every party. You’ve got such a pulse, people can feel when you walk into a room. Nobody notices me.

Manic: They do.

Depression: C’mon.

Manic: They do.

Depression: But it’s not for the right reasons.

Manic: You think mine are?

Depression: You’re, oh, what’s the word…fun.

Manic: No, I’m a spectacle.

Depression: And I’m what? A walk in the park?

Manic: It’s always greener on the other side. Hasn’t anyone ever told you that?

Depression: Maybe. But I might have been taking a nap.

Manic: Ha, point taken. Well, I’ve got to go, but let’s not wait so long to do this again, okay?

Depression: You can bet on it. Thought Catalog Logo Mark

✨ real(ly not) chill. poet. writer. mental health activist. mama shark. ✨

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