Mary and Max- Am I sad or happy? Am I philosopher? It's hard to understand weird people. Oh, actually, I'm weird. It's hard to understand normal people. I've been depressed for a great deal of time. Not depressed like: ”oh, I'm not feeling okay now. But everything is okay”. It's something like: “I'm feeling very bad, and sad; probably I'm considered as I am freak. But I consider others as being freaks. I'm not depressed because of weirdness – it's because of life, as it is”. Uncertainly, I'm both Mary and Max. The first – my state of mind. Unbearable pressure in head, which I almost can't put literally vertical on my head. It's pretty hard, considering it's mass. I feel like an invisible ghost pushes my head and makes my eyes falling down. Teeth and jaw are stiff. I'm going to sleep. It's the most comfortable way to make reality become unreal and relaxing. I'm crying when the story of the sense of life is being said. I'm smiling when there are people around me. It's a spontaneous reaction. Probably because I'm Max in my mind, Mary in my soul. People probably wrongly understand depression; or more precisely – they have no idea how actually it functions for real, in mind of attached person. They think they are mad, or they're pretending something wrong is happening- “depression is nothing serious”. I'm Mary: I'm ready to finish my living, to kill myself, to die in the full co…

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