Depression, Photo by Ian Espinosa on Unsplash
It’s 4:00 in the morning. Like every Thursday night, I stand here, standing in front of this door. My name is George and I’m a bouncer three nights a week. In my black security jacket, I look like I weigh 300 pounds. I look mean to those who approach and show a silly smile to all those rich kids who come out of their parties, completely drunk, staggering and laughing their heads off like idiots. I don’t remember being such a jerk in my youth, and frankly I refrain from putting lead in their brains with slaps and well-placed fists. I could show them what I’m worth, those haughty, useless little worms, but then I’d risk losing my job, and that’s no, I can’t lose my job. Besides, come to think of it, I’m not even sure I have the strength. I’m tired, so tired of fighting every day to bring barely enough to live on for my little family. I don’t blame anyone, my wife works like a madwoman too, we hardly ever pass each other during the day. As for my granddaughters, I see them every morning in a gale before leaving for a long day’s work at the factory, and in the evening when they go to bed, I read them a story, and that’s the only time of the day when I feel alive. Sometimes I tell myself that I missed my vocation, I should have been an actor… I act so often… Sometimes funny and jovial with my colleagues, sometimes strong and protective with my daughters, or aggressive and ready to pounce in front of this nightclub. I feel empty, I don’t feel like anything anymore, I even wonder sometimes why I do it all? What’s the point of slaving body and soul to have carbonara in your pasta, when you don’t even appreciate good food anymore? What’s the point of fighting to take care of a woman you haven’t made love with for months, and who you don’t even meet or recognize anymore? What’s the point of working day and night to provide toys and fashion items for children who never see their father? I would so much like to go back to the days when everything was easy. The money came from our parents, and when we ran out, we stole with impunity, without remorse and without consequences. That time, when I, too, went out every night like his little bourgeois full of life… By the way, this one looks very bad…
It’s a little after 4:00 in the morning. I feel bad, everything’s spinning, I feel like I’m going to fall apart. Why are their lips moving and I can’t hear anything? The bouncer is walking towards us… Strange… Ooh… I’m going to throw up, that’s for sure… I can’t feel my legs… Ah! I’m sleeping, I think… I’m fine, mmmm… so much better. I love that moment when, after a night of debauchery, when everything starts to go wrong, well-being comes back in one fell swoop. I’ll probably wake up in the hospital, forget all the good resolutions I made in my coma and go back to a life of debauchery. On average, I spend two nights in the hospital every week. No, I’m not sick, just unconscious. I know just about every hospital in the Paris area and I intend to extend my knowledge to the province. Why put me in such a state? Well, I don’t know. I don’t know. I don’t know. Just like that. To test my limits and spice up my existence. I was born with a silver spoon in my mouth, yet I have no future. I dropped out of school a long time ago and the “Jean, I’ve found a job you might be interested in.” I don’t think I’m interested in the “Jean, I’ve found a job you might be interested in” anymore. At first I tried, I went to see the person concerned who politely explained all the tasks I had to do. But why work when you can get more pocket money than many salaries? At least I can’t be blamed for taking advantage of my parents’ connections to make room for me. Sometimes I dream of being poor and having a purpose in life, a goal, of having to work in order to go out, of being useful to society… But these are just fantasies. If poverty made you happy, you’d know, we wouldn’t all be chasing after every penny. No, what attracts the poor is that they often have lots of friends. It’s logical, we stick together in times of trouble. For example, I, alcohol and drugs of all kinds are my only friends, while the leeches who pretend to be friends are only companions in loneliness. For yes, we are all, alone, almost even lost in search of direction or in total collapse.
I consider myself unkind and I know that my actions will have consequences. On my health in particular, I’m even surprised that I don’t already have a punctured lung in view of all the cigarettes and other joints I’ve smoked. I can die today, it doesn’t matter, that’s life. In fact, there’s nothing keeping me here. No caring friends, no loving family, no pretty fiancée. Only pleasure keeps me going, the pleasure of feeling that we’re losing control, that our gestures no longer belong to us, the pleasure of flirting with all those pussies, each one more superficial than the next, the pleasure of waking up surrounded by nurses in a hospital bed…
It is 4:34 in the morning, and the ambulance that was parked in front of my building leaves in a hurry, sounding its siren in an intolerable hubbub. That’s what it’s all about for me, being persuaded to do the deal of the century by renting an apartment in a building opposite a night club. “Don’t worry, it’s very well soundproofed, and then don’t worry, you can walk around at night, it’s a very select nightclub…”, you bet, I’m woken up every other night by an ambulance or a ruckus in the street, and alcoholic people are still alcoholic people… I mean, I’m not likely to get mugged, I often walk alone at night, and I’m not afraid anymore, I’ve understood that there’s something inside me that repels strangers. Maybe it’s this expression of aggressiveness and sadness that remains stuck on my face… I don’t know… There must be advantages to not being approached… Because otherwise, there are many inconveniences, I’ve been a student for 4 years now and I’ve only had 5 sexual encounters, and all of them under the influence of alcohol. To tell the truth, it is only when I drink and lose control that I become opaque. I’m finally being perceived. Except it’s not quite me anymore. Four years ago, I was dreaming of an exciting student life with parties with friends every week, of a full love life where boys would fall under my spell and gradually discover me. Since then, I have lost my illusions, my friends are not friends and I am transparent to most people. I’m sure that if I left for good, only two or three people would find out.
I’ve often thought about killing myself, about ending it all. I even once swallowed 5 thousand gram Dolipranes, thinking I would collapse in the university hall, only to be noticed. I was then a first year law school student and I had just lost my illusions. An old friend of mine had told me that 6 Dolipranes swallowed in a row led to certain death. I only took five, who knows why. I already had to hold on to life, and I just wanted to exist in the eyes of others. In the end, all I got was a terrible headache… Today I don’t intend to end it, at least not yet. I have learned over time that being in the eyes of others the girl, who committed suicide by swallowing an overdose of medication, is far from being a valid acknowledgement. I also think of my parents, who pay every cent of my rent and have given me so much, I cannot deprive them of the pride of having a daughter who graduated from judicial school. You think: she’s holding on, she’s staying alive for her parents. It’s not completely true, that’s for sure, they don’t push me to leave, but what makes me stay is the desire to finish what I started. Graduate, get a job, and then we’ll see. I’ve given up the idea of getting married, having two children and living in a 200m2 building overlooking the Champ de Mars. I know it’s an unattainable dream and it wouldn’t make me happy. When I think about it, I’m only happy, or rather not unhappy, that when I work, my mind is focused and there is nothing else but these pompous and incomprehensible legal formulas, and my only pleasure is to have overcome the difficulties and finished what I had to finish. Before, it was films, series and fiction in general that made me dream and made me less unhappy. Then all those colourful stories bored me, and I started reading depressing essays and biographies, novels about addiction, suicide, depression, which made me more bitter and melancholic than ever. So for two years now, I have been reading only the penal code, the civil code and the enactments of laws, the law journals and watching only reruns of the national assembly. It’s a depressing life, yes, but I’m content with it, I take it out on boxing every Tuesday to vent my sadness and rage. I pay for this activity by babysitting every morning from 6 to 8:30 a.m. and every evening from 4 to 7:30 p.m. I like these children, they make me smile with their childish desires and their innocence intact. Because they too would have something to worry about with such a mother… She doesn’t work, but prefers to sleep rather than bring them to school in the morning, it is her husband who hired me and warned me of the situation. In the evening, she comes into the house or comes home later loaded with packages that she carefully stores in her closet. It’s at times like this that I tell myself that I’m not so bad after all. Well, maybe I have a little time to work before I go to work…
5H ! The flashing red light of the alarm clock desperately reminds me that a new day is about to begin. Pff, I’ve woken up at 5:00 a.m. twice this week. These new sleeping pills are not strong enough, I have to talk about it with my doctor. I’ve been taking sleeping pills for 5 years and even with them I sometimes can’t fall asleep. And then Richard will get up in about thirty minutes, with his usual discretion; then Sophie, the nanny, will knock on the door at 6 o’clock and the children will wake up and it will be the end of my peace and quiet.
I don’t remember being happy for years, ten years, maybe a little less. I am a housewife, well, let’s just say that I am completely maintained by my husband. My days are reduced to a sleepless morning, which is no longer a sleepless morning, since I can no longer sleep, a copious breakfast prepared by my husband, from which I drink only orange juice, and then an hour-long bubble bath, which I leave only out of boredom. Then I spend hours in the overpriced shops of the capital, spending my companion’s money. Yet you would think that I have everything to be happy, pretty children, a husband who is still very well preserved, money and no boss to tell me what to do. The disadvantage is that I didn’t even want it, I got it.
Marriage came naturally after a few years of playing the pickaxe in college, when he was doing very well, and then when he graduated, I stopped the fees and started to get maintenance, I was really happy to live that way then and was already spending huge amounts of money in Parisian shops. He didn’t say anything, he was in love, he promised to make me dozens of children and to love me until the end of time. We made love several times a day and everything balanced each other out. My shoe collection grew, while his love for me faded over the years. Our closets filled up, but our hearts emptied. I thought he was getting a divorce, love no longer blinded him, and I no longer made him happy. Then I got pregnant, and then he started cuddling me again, he rediscovered love. His happiness came back. Mine didn’t. To be honest, I never wanted to have children. I don’t like children, for me they’re just an additional constraint, a pretext to buy a minivan, noisy and mobile figurines in a high-class apartment. It’s true, they have all the disadvantages of men, and ask for love constantly. I don’t know how to give love, so what’s the point? It was my husband’s mother who took care of the children until they went to school, so she only came in the mornings and evenings to bring them to and pick them up from school. It suited me well, so I could go about my business in peace and quiet. I had three children, all adorable and very smart according to my husband. The only thing I have to admit is that being pregnant has a lot of advantages, besides, all my pregnancies went painlessly, I chose the caesarean section so I wouldn’t look like all those panting and sweaty women who give birth to their children. These are the three periods of my life when I was the most fulfilled, the saleswomen were all taking care of me and I was the center of attention at all the social events. Once you give birth, they are the ones you admire, the ones you cuddle, you are just the arms that carry them.
It’s not the life I dreamed of, I saw myself as an actress, on the steps of the Cannes Film Festival, I have more than one dress that could suit me… Yes, but I have no talent, no drive in my life, and I would even say, no ties… I don’t want to attempt a disastrous suicide that would make my corpse, one of those awful white and smelly corpses from all those bad detective movies… I would like to fall asleep forever, and sleeping pills allow me to do so in part, well not this new brand, but well… And then, there are so many dresses that I would still like to acquire I can’t decently leave this world without having obtained them…
Well, I’m still gonna try to get back to sleep. On Richard’s shoulder, why not? That’s the shoulder I used to fall asleep on every night before we were married… Where the hell is Richard? I turn around, and no one! That’s the last straw. As I recall, he told me about a meeting he was supposed to come home in the night. Too bad, I would have had sex after all, to pass the time. He had to get a room, he didn’t feel like driving so late, you can’t cheat on a woman like me…
Um, it’s 5:30, time for me to take a shower. I lift Richard’s arm and slowly get out of bed. He’s sleeping like a toddler, looking happy and peaceful. It’s not the first time we’ve had sex together. Richard is my boss, after last night’s meeting and dinner, we went out for a few drinks with colleagues, and one drink led to another… we ended up in this hotel room. Richard’s a great guy, and I have no remorse about making love to him once in a while. He’s barely higher up in the box than I am, so it’s not a problem. And it doesn’t affect our working relationship in any way. He’s married, of course, but given what he tells me about his wife, I’m not surprised that he goes elsewhere from time to time. He even told me last night that with me everything was simpler, that he felt alive again. It doesn’t really surprise me, considering what I do to him…
I don’t see why I should feel guilty about sleeping with married men, especially when I’m sure to get an orgasm every time! Besides, if they’re married, that’s their problem, not mine. Everyone has responsibilities. You tell me, it’s easy for her to say this, she’s not married. I would have liked to be in truth, but I chose to focus on my career, and then just five years ago, I didn’t have much success with men. It is since my career took off, since I travel 12 months a year, since I sign contracts by the dozen, since my assistant has his assistant, in short since I have a high position, in one of the most successful companies in the world, that I attract so many charming men into my net. I live in a world that is still very masculine, where a woman like me, full of confidence and who doesn’t let herself be stepped on, fascinates. I don’t look like Angelina Jolie, but I like it. If I had rained earlier, I would have been married by now. But now it’s too late. I didn’t want a life like this, I wanted to be a mother, to give all the love I have to give to my children, to bake for them, to entertain them… I only play this role with my nephews, and my godchildren four or five times a year. Otherwise I’m alone. I live alone in large apartments furnished and decorated by myself. I don’t have a home of my own, but about 20. I prefer to have twenty “small” apartments in all the cities I travel to, rather than two or three huge ones and sleep in hotels elsewhere.
Although, I’ve been sleeping in a hotel a lot lately… Because once all my day’s tasks are done, when I come home, I lose all my self-confidence and I feel all my bitterness and loneliness again. I take a cup and it is only when the bubbles begin to take effect that I regain my self-confidence and my ever-increasing desire to conquer the world, so at last I take my files back and examine them one by one, it is at that moment that I find my brightest ideas. Blessed be the inventor of Champagne. But for the last few months, the bitterness has been stronger and it is no longer a glass but a bottle that I need, to overcome my temporary depression. That’s why I often continue the evening with a lover, sex and alcohol form a great antidepressant. Besides, I have to hurry up and take a shower, I have a plane at 7am. I have to meet Paolo before my 2pm meeting, and God knows he’s one of the sweetest and most intense men I know. he’s taking me to seventh heaven for sure. I don’t want to miss this for the world…
It’s 6:00 in the morning. The radio goes off. Maria moans a little and gets up in bed, she rubs her head, looks at me and smiles. I smile back at her, but my heart isn’t in it. Maria is my wife. Objectively, she is a very beautiful woman. Her black hair falls on her shoulders, it curls a bit at the end, it’s adorable. I used to love to play with it. She looks at me with her black eyes and puts a kiss on my lips. She gets up, goes to the kitchen and I hear her making coffee. Maria is the ideal woman, she is loving, kind, caring, she hardly moans at all. She works in a fashion design agency and combines a perfect work and family life. At least that’s what she thinks. I don’t know why I cheat on her, and every time I meet her eyes, I blame myself for lying to her and doing this to her. If she knew, she’d be furious. Because she’s not just a caricature of the perfect woman, she’s still got her temper… No… I really don’t see why I’m jeopardizing 20 years of a happy marriage and our family life… Yes, because I have two wonderful children, my son is in high school and my daughter is in hotel training. They’re both very bright, I love them both so much, and so does my wife.
I started cheating on Maria three years ago. I had no reason to do so, and I still have none, our sex life has always been very intense. But three years ago I finally reached my goal: to pulverize the competition and become the market leader. I became more than rich, and my company has maintained its leadership since then. In fact, I’ve always fought for what I wanted. I went through a long and difficult education, financed by a poorly paid and grueling job, I had to court Maria for months to get her to deign to look at me, I built this company, after raising enough capital, starting my career in fields that didn’t interest me much but paid well. Then I had to educate my children at the same time, instilling in them the values that were important to me. And I did all of that. So fast… too fast maybe. Because three years ago, when I reached that goal and looked at my life, I suddenly felt empty. Like I was confused, like I’d lost my bearings. My children were already on their own, my wife had taken me over and I had no more challenges to face.
That evening, I called Maria to tell her that I was celebrating our success with my partners in New York, that we would celebrate with the family the next day, then I had dinner alone in a restaurant, downed a bottle of white wine, and already I was feeling much better. I don’t usually abuse alcohol, but this time it was self-indulgent. I walked out of the restaurant, staggered slightly. I went to a nearby bar, sat down at the counter and ordered a Martini. That’s where I met Solène, she was sitting on my right. She wasn’t really pretty, but she had a defiant look in her eyes, a fake insurance policy stuck in her face. It was this depth that I guessed, this inner shadow that attracted me, I felt that with her I could find again the adventure and the exhilaration of success that I had lost. I offered her a drink, and everything followed naturally. We took a room in a small hotel nearby, undressed slowly and made love on the carpet like two teenagers hiding from their parents, both brutally and tenderly. It wasn’t that I had had more fun than with Maria, but rather that the situation exhilarated me more. That the guilt, the fear of being seen added a little something and made me more content.
The worry was that I wanted to regain that feeling quite quickly afterwards. I had Solène’s number and we used to meet in town from time to time. But seeing her once a month wasn’t enough for me any more, the exhilaration of the first few times turned into a routine. However, I became attached to her, and I saw that all this made her feel better, so I continued. I told her that I had a wife and children, it didn’t make her feel hot or cold. She didn’t ask me to give up my family for her, she had her life, I had mine and we just had a good time together. But as I said, my thirst for adventure and challenge was no longer quenched, so I conquered other mistresses, and each month one is added to the previous ones, I make sure that none of them know anything about my family life. Now my challenge is to juggle my mistresses, my family and my job, without any of the three parties knowing anything. In the end, only Solène knows everything about the situation. Besides, I have to meet her at the airport at 9am.
However, I feel even emptier today than I did three years ago. I matter to many people, and I care about many of them. But I can no longer bear the monotony of my life. Every morning I put on my happy man costume and I’m fed up. I plan to leave today. To say goodbye to them. And finally, in my eyes, I’m doing them a favor. Overcoming the death of a loved one is a challenge that one necessarily emerges victorious…
I can hear Maria screaming at me to take a shower, before I’m late. I take advantage one last time of this high-pitched voice. I got up too quickly, I feel a little dizzy. It’s okay, it’s gone. I go to the balcony, open the window. It’s freezing outside, the city is still asleep. I scan the skyscrapers around me. That’s why I bought the apartment. I’ve always felt invincible from the top of the 18th. Today I’m going to prove me wrong. On the ledge that separates me from the void, I take one last look around the apartment and jump.
Ooh!!! It’s like an amusement park ! Damn, I forgot to leave a letter or something to explain what I did. Finally, I liked this life… Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have…
THE END