Will Suffering End?
April 18th, 2026
Any large city is going to have religious cultists standing around, trying to convert anyone naive enough to not put their head down and walk faster. I think it feels like more here because there’s also a large population of Catholics who make their misanthropy everyone else’s business. At one point today, while stuck in traffic between errands, I saw two Jehova’s Witnesses standing in front of a college campus with a stack of magazines titled,
“WILL SUFFERING END?”
Worst person you know is right, I said to myself. I have been having a lot of bad days lately. I was diagnosed with Bipolar I Disorder earlier this year, after more than a decade of privately dealing with increasingly worse symptoms. I wanted to take the diagnosis in stride, let it empower me to ask for help more easily, but that’s all easier said than done. I’m taking Lithium, which means my mania and suicidal ideation have been reduced dramatically. But when I’m depressed, like now, I still feel an overwhelming sense of detachment and apathy. It’s hard to keep up your identity as an idealistic, outgoing person when you know inside that most days it’s a facade that keeps other people happy.
One of the only things that makes me feel understood when I’m in this state of mind is ambient drone music. The emotions are so dense and muddy, there’s no argument for feeling happy, sad, or anything at all. I can just sink into the bodily experience of whatever strange, uncomfortable thing I’m feeling, and accept it. One of my favorite artists is ✩·͙*̩̩͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩̥͙ ✩*̩̩̥͙˚̩̥̩̥*̩̩͙‧͙ ✩͙ ✩ (pronounced ‘Hanging Stars’, a.k.a. Andrew), who makes very touching compositions, and shares my taste in furry art.
It’s hard to get help when you feel so connection averse. It’s hard to want to express yourself when you don’t enjoy anything. Everything feels like an obligation, nothing is pleasurable, and no one can get outside of their own head long enough to listen. The other night I couldn’t sleep, so I deleted all of my social media accounts. I hadn’t posted anything in ages, so I figured no one would notice. I just didn’t want people to be able to see whatever stuff was on there anymore. I even wiped my Furaffinity gallery, which I regret now. Ultimately, though, it’s just data on the internet.
When I drive to the north side of town, the college radio station I usually listen to starts to cut in and out and go fuzzy. In some places it’s so precise, it’s almost like a DJ is going back and forth on a turntable as I drive. I keep the radio on even when it starts to get incoherent, I love the ephemeral mash-ups and remixes I get to hear when I’m between two stations’ ranges. Sometimes I think about putting something in my car to record, so I can play them back later.
The advice I always give my friends who are feeling depressed the way I am: Make plans for the future. Having anything at all to look forward to makes you remember that things won’t always be like this. Today I bought a carry-on suitcase off of Rodo; we’re going to Toronto on a road trip in a couple weeks. I’m very much looking forward to it.
Later in the day I’m still stuck in traffic, this time next to a couple of college-age kids standing around with giant anti-abortion signs. I want to roll down my window and cuss them out so bad. Say the worst shit I can think of without any regrets attached. But these people thrive off of negative attention, so my choice to try and stay cool and not give it to them will probably go further than any rage would. As I’m sitting there, I look to the other side of the street and see a college student patiently waiting for their bus, bobbing side to side and smiling. They’re proudly holding a blue-and-green canine fursuit head and matching tail in their arms. Context tells me they probably just finished making it and were showing it off to their classmates. The buses move forward, I keep driving, and let their joy stick to me for the rest of the day.