Are you tired? Rundown? Listless? Do you poop out at parties? Are you unpopular? Well the answer to all your problems is in this little bottle. Vitameatavegamin. That's Vita-meata-vegamin………

So there I was happy on a pill and life, despite it was the last night of Queer Nation down at Sub Station in Brixton not to mention that it was the farewell party for my dear friend Hobbit who had decided to travel the world for a year to show off his ring to as many men as possible when another very dear friend of my mine leaned over and said something in the line of:

-Marcus, I think we need to hook up and have a chat.

Since I knew or at least was pretty sure what he wanted to talk about I replied quickly:

-Listen I know you and quite a few of your other friends wants me to get a man and settle down, but you see…

-No that’s not what I meant, I want to talk about you being depressed!

Now making Marcus speechless is pretty hard if I may say so but all of a sudden I found myself in state where gob smacked was just my middle name so all I could say was:

-Me, depressed??

-Well you are, my dear dear bloody dear friend replied.

Not sure what happened after that but next thing I know I am standing on the dance floor next to another good friend of mine and screaming down the poor old blokes ear what my other friend told me, the guy just looks at me smiling and says:

-I could have told you that!

Before he turns around and continues disco dancing.

So I went up to my friend that dropped the less happy bomb on me and said:

-Listen I can’t be depressed, actually I know I’m not depressed cuz I can’t feel I am depressed, in a slightly neurotic tone.

-That is the whole point, many times people don’t know that they are depressed.

At this time my pills had sent me off to happy heaven so I couldn’t be arsed to even discuss the whole nonsense since I was there to have fun.

The day after I went for a coffee with another of my best mates and I told him about the previous night and how these friends of mine didn’t think I was biggest ray of sunshine on the scene, and ended up asking my third mate what he thought, and he replied:

-Well I have been concerned quite a lot if I should be honest.

-Why?

-You gone from Mr. Sociable to someone who sitting in your room and hardly ever leaves it during weekends, you don’t go out clubbing that much anymore and basically keep you to yourself most of the times.

Since these friends of mine are people who’s opinions and thoughts I highly do respect and listens to I have of course spent a lot of time the last months to question myself. I have analyzing my behaviour, trying to figure out the reality and truth, and I can honestly say that I still don’t believe that I ‘m depressed and that I do say with almost 95 percent certainties.

Just because one choose not to change ones underwear for half a year or more and one might grind half a kilo of Prozac in ones serials each morning not to forget that one might mix spray mount and petrol just to inject it analy to see if one survive, one immediately do get judge by loved ones to be depressed!

Yes I have changed and yes I have retrieved myself for the last year or so but my theory is completely different than my dear friends.

Anyone who knows me will probably say that I like to talk, anything from to complete and utterly palaver to complete and full on utterly palaver, but facts are that my job is tiring me out so much so when the weekends come I don’t have that much energy left quite frankly.

Due to this I have taken a more passive role when it comes to socialize not just because I don’t have the energy for it but also save my friends from a less fun Marcus to hang with, me almost thinking that I am doing them a favour.

You don’t need to be Einstein to my job but it is very tiring since all I do is communicate all the time. All I do is talk, and then talk and then talk some more. I sincerely don’t think I am quiet for more than half a minute at the most before I need to talk again. If I don’t leave my office on my lunch I still get approached by staff at my job asking questions, or chatting away about something, it doesn’t even matter if I go up to the attic, bury my head in a book, newspaper, magazine or shove my head into a pit black plastic bag, I still have to communicate.

Facts are also that I am not 25 anymore, I have reached the age of 36 and even though some people keeps on partying in the same phase like their teenage year, maybe I do not belong to that group. It’s not that I all of a sudden don’t like clubbing anymore, but I have not the same interest to do it every single weekend.

Further on when I sit in my room or spend time with myself I am a very happy and calm person. I don’t just hang on my own feeling down and unhappy, I don’t feel blue I don’t cry. I am very at ease to just watch a DVD, read a book, play a game but I am a person who need me me me time that is just how I work.

I guess I see myself as the Swedish J-Lo, I need my space basically…….

The third reason for my so called depressed behaviour is due to the simple fact that my financial state is absolutely fucked so even if I wanted to go out every weekend I just simply couldn’t do it.

I might of course be completely wrong here and is actually need of a family jar of Prozac a day but honestly I do think that it comes down to that I am actually getting more comfortable in my own skin, and maybe too comfortable according to some of my friends.

However until I get that extremely well paid dream job of mine, the one where I work with a bunch of mute and paralyzed children that are locked up in sound safe bunker with me sitting outside with my iPod on full volume chilling, this is the way I am going to be I’m afraid!

Of course I could try to push myself and get out a bit more because no man is going to shag a depressed homo sitting in his room making wedding dresses as my dear friend Mr. Hobbit so nicely put it the other day.
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