(Ladies and gentlemen, this is a satire. If a person had actually written this in earnest, he would be a lot sicker than the extent to which he describes below. Only sociopaths who can feel the pain of no one else think like this. As I once reassured a friend, "If you're worried that you're a sociopath you're not a sociopath as sociopaths do not worry about whether or not they are sociopaths!" Black humor is used to illustrate the insensitivity and ignorance of people who should know better.)
Sometimes I fail to realize what a lucky guy I am. You see, I was born not only in the richest country on Earth, but into one of its richest families. In addition to being born into wealth, I was also gifted with looks, an IQ in the genius level, friends, connections, perfect health and popularity. You could say I had/have it all. This was especially true in school. By the time my freshman year of high school ended, I was already 6'3" and a naturally lean, but muscular 190 lbs. I got excellent grades without even trying. As for girls, I never had any trouble attracting the best looking. You could say I had a charmed life.
If high school offered me the good life, college offered me nearly the perfect life. Easily accepted into an Ivy League school, I made Dean's List every semester; on top of that, I was a champion on the varsity rowing team. Upon graduating, I didn't have to worry about job prospects as I already had an inheritance. A charmed life indeed. Then something happened. Shortly after graduation, I started having a series of melancholy thoughts. I would lie in bed for entire weekends. I would shun contact with my friends. I would neglect personal hygiene. I lost all interest in the things that once made me happy, such as time with friends, exercise, reading, traveling, etc. I couldn't understand what was wrong. I hadn't suffered any losses. I was in perfect physical health yet I was being attacked by these terrible feelings all the time. I started losing weight due to not eating for 48 hours straight. At one point I was down to 140 lbs. I had never been much of a drinker, but I was now drinking hard liquor early in the morning on the few occasions when I would actually get up before evening. I was always sad. I would always hear an inner voice telling me that I didn't deserve to live, that I was worthless, evil, unworthy of love, and that the world would be better off without me.
Despite having so much going for me, I was on the edge of taking my own life. I felt nothing but sadness, and the reasons were totally unknown to me. After all, I had never been in a war, I had never lost a loved one and I was in perfect physical health, so why was I feeling like this? What I didn't realize is that I had a sickness of the brain, something known as depression. What was I to do? I was too embarrassed to see a therapist; after all, real men don't see therapists, and guys who have had it as good as me, shouldn't be in such a psychological state.
Fate intervened in the form of my first cousin. His name is Nate and Nate has been through a fair amount of hardship in his life. His wife was unfaithful to him, and they ended up divorced. In the custody battle, he lost custody of both his children. Already, at age 41 he had suffered his first heart attack. On top of that, many of his initial investments had failed, which led to him having to ask my father for help just to stay afloat. He knew his share of suffering. Nate taught me something that every so-called "depressive" needs to learn: you're not the only one suffering! Nate reminded me that while I have it all, kids are dying of famine in Ethiopia, women have no rights in Somalia, people are thrown in prison for their political beliefs in North Korea and so many other atrocities. With that in mind I cheered up instantly. I thought how lucky I am that I am not one of those losers. Then I would really have a reason to be sad. As long as people are starving and suffering in the Third World, and I am doing well, I have reason to be overjoyed! The thought that I am not some kid in Ethiopia with flies all around his face and a stomach distended from malnutrition cheers me up in a jiffy! Knowing that I will never have to live life as a woman under the Taliban makes me realize how awesome my life is and how happy I should be! Knowing that I don't have a terminal illness makes me realize how much better everything is for me than for those sad sacks drawing their final breath.
Another thing that helped me overcome my depression is prayer. I had never really taken the time to contemplate matters of faith in my youth. Sure, my parents had me baptised as an Episcopalian, but we only went to church for Easter and Christmas, and religion was never a serious part of my upbringing. Nate told me about his faith in Christ, and I was interested. I started praying, and guess what? I started to feel better. The things I prayed for came true, such as finding true love, earning more money in the stock market, etc. I then thought to myself, "What a source of joy knowing that Jesus not only loves me, but answers my prayers!" Thank God I'm not like one of those pitiful specimens who spends all his time praying to Jesus, but gets nothing in return. No, Jesus specifically likes ME and answers MY prayers, unlike those other losers whose needs he is indifferent to. I am blessed. As long as Jesus is personally paying attention to me, and not others, I feel great. I also feel exhilarated knowing that millions of people around the world are living in horrifying conditions, but I am not! Such a change in my thoughts helped me overcome depression, and if you apply the same technique to your way of thinking, you can break away from depression forever, just like I did!
