My Depression

Myles Dichter

The pain, the suffering. Anything would be better than this. I watch, as all my friends leap for joy. I sit there in unbearable pain, a pain that seems like it won’t go away, at least any time soon. A few others sit near me, but we want nothing to do with each other and our miserable lives. In many ways I am worse than them, in many ways I am in much better shape. I watch as some of these get up, and are suddenly happy for the first time in what seems like forever. Occasionally I will get a small jolt of life, but no one seems to notice.

My misery began in 1968. I just come off one of the biggest highs in my life. Little did I know back then, that I would never feel like this again.  I grew stronger in 1977, but that didn’t help me feel any better about myself. Skip forward to 1992, and a solid 4 year stretch began, though it wasn’t without some pain. For two years running, I was on top of the World. I grew stronger once again in 1995, with expansion into a new field. More manpower could only lead to happier times. Apparently not. Even these years were bittersweet, with my rival taking what was most important to me, something I had not owned in a long time. After 1995, I went skyrocketing downhill faster than Charlie Sheen could say the word “winning”. I was a loser, and still am today. I talked about occasional jolts of life, these are short-lived, and unrecognized by most others. These glory days seem to pass too quickly anyway. The parts of me that people actually care about, those are what hurt the most.

It kills me to see my own people cheering for my pitfall. It puts pressure on me when my followers hold false hope for me. There isn’t much I can do, I’m just not that good compared to my peers. Yeah, maybe I’m a B student, but if thats the case then everyone else gets an A+, or at least an E for effort. I’m stuck in the middle, as always. I wish I knew the root of my depression, maybe that way I could fix it, and take my rightful place on top. But it seems like every year, there’s something different thats leads to my demise.

Did I forget to introduce myself? My apologies indeed. I just figured you’d know me, you’d love me, and you’d always remember me. Maybe I’m being too pompous; then again, I’m sure you can figure out who I am.

I am the city of Toronto, specifically the representative of major sports in our great city. Sitting next to my right is Cleveland, to my left is Minnesota. We are all at different stages of our depression. Cleveland is on the brink of suicide. I’m not far behind, but I would never consider killing myself. Maybe if I was Cleveland I would, but I’m far better than him. Its not as if I had a star NBA player leave in the last 12 months. Yeah, that Bosh guy left, but it was no big deal. I’ll move past that. Cleveland has to learn to live without Lebron. I’m lightyears ahead of him in terms of forgiveness. Cleveland doesn’t even have a hockey team! I mean, what how bad an American city do you have to be for Gary Bettmann to NOT reward you with an NHL team? Moving onto the NFL, I still win. I’m going to get a team eventually, probably very soon. We just have to wait for Ralph Wilson to die. It shouldn’t be too long. Cleveland has to deal with Jake Delhomme and Seneca Wallace. They call themselves dogs. I don’t know about you, but to me that doesn’t sound like a good thing. Our baseball teams aren’t even close. The Blue Jays are better now and have won the World Series more recently. Maybe if they had Jose Bautista…..

Or maybe this is all false hope. Maybe I’m really no better than Cleveland when it comes down to it. Maybe 1 NFL team is better than none. Besides, I’m sure all Minnesota is thinking the same thing about me now. I am the only one who’s biggest team hasn’t won in years. You wanna talk about the Cubs? Well the Blackhawks, White Sox and Bears have all been to championships since 2005. I can hardly remember the last time one of my teams won a playoff game, let alone make a championship, let alone win the championship! Maybe I compared myself to a lesser city to make me feel better about myself. Because really, in my heart of hearts, I know that I’m in the bottom tier of sports cities.

But where’s the fun in believing that? I like thinking that I’m better than everyone, even when I’m not. Sometimes I can even convince my ignorant followers that I am-that’s always fun. For now, I live behind my cloak of confidence, beneath which lies an unbearable pain, one which seems like it will never go away, at least not any time soon.

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