Rydeen

Since I’m currently struggling with seasonal depression, I’ve told those around me that, in railway terms, I’m on partial service suspension. Strangely, this has brought me a bit of relief. Until now, I’ve always lived with a constant sense of tension. I vaguely remember a comment from a follower last year who said, “You’re someone who never lets their guard down, even in replies.” It stuck with me. Perhaps it refers to my reluctance to show weakness, my refusal to rely on others' goodwill, and my constant self-reliant stance.

I’m an early riser, so I wake up before dawn, and as a result, the depression has felt a bit heavier these past few days. But as time passes, I notice my mind and body gradually warming up, and I start to feel slightly more positive.

Meanwhile, as I randomly revisit past posts on my blog or Twitter, I find that the "I" in them sometimes doesn’t quite feel like me anymore. Reading them can even be disheartening. It’s like a heavy tank crashing through a wooden fence with brute force or a massive boulder rolling down a cliff, smashing through a flimsy barrier meant to stop falling rocks — even though all the articles and posts seem remarkably intellectual and convincing. At the same time, it feels like a terrifyingly intelligent devil mocking both the readers, myself included.

This "I" was created and maintained within my small online space of discourse. But slowly, cracks have started to form between the physical me and this persona, and now, through this seasonal depression, it’s finally becoming clear. Or perhaps, under the guise of seasonal depression — a condition that’s become more widely recognized in recent years — I’m simply able to express the mental exhaustion I’ve been carrying alone all this time. In a way, that feels like a relief.