What if Facebook commenters became your therapist?
Sadman: Hello, everyone. I'd say "Good morning" but I had to take a two-hour bus ride for compulsory attendance for a degree I didn't choose. Clearly, there's nothing good about my mornings and that's exactly why you're here.
Sigma Fraud (SF): Was this meeting really necessary? Couldn't this crippling depression crisis be mitigated through a poorly-worded Facebook post and some light-hearted generic comments?
Sadman: Unfortunately, that didn't work. I tried opening separate Facebook accounts for each of the voices in my head so that they can have their own social space to dump their misery and let doom scrolling take care of the rest. However, the voices won't stop. My anxiety and panic attacks are taking over.
With the help of internet, I've been diagnosed with something between crippling depression and a terminal illness. I finally took my mom's advice and decided to talk to people about my mental health. You've always been supportive of my internet paragraphs and so I reached out to you.
SF: Well, this is clearly a case of acute Attention Seeking Syndrome. I'm prescribing a daily dose of "Yes King" with "Stay strong, King" twice a day. On bad days, try taking "yes" with extra "s". But I should warn you – one of my patients overdosed and now it's his only response to everything.
Sadman: Fraud, as much as I'm happy that you can relate to my suffering as your comments suggest, I was looking for more realistic advice.
SF: It is what it is, King.
Sadman: Oh, you and your nuanced ways of telling me to choke on my problems! Faria, I'm hoping you've some useful advice for me.
Angel Faria (AF): I'm sorry, I forgot my emojis at home. I had the pleading face emoji on my "frequently used" tab, ready for your posts. I was going to top it off with an "Aww, you'll do great!" My meaningless templated concern would've solved your depression just like that!
Sadman: I— I thought those pleading faces were exclusive to me! You were always the first one to react and comment on my post. When you reacted to my 1300-word post of me whining about my engineering major, within eight seconds, you didn't even bother reading it did you? Did you even care when my dog died?
AF: You had a dog? Sorry, what I meant to say was, "Aww, dw! Just chill, fr."
Sadman: At least I have a mental health group therapist among us. Dr Bishal, help me out, please.
Dr Bishal (DB): Of course, Sadman. What else's bothering you?
Sadman: My family's severe financial crisis is only worsening my depression. Dad's been bedridden after his accident last month and so I have to work two jobs. My childhood trauma's coming back in my nightmares so I'm afraid to sleep. It all started when—
DB: Stop. You had me at "depression". I advise you to start looking into your faith.
Sadman: But doctor, hear me out. I do pray regularly but this trauma—
DB: Unfortunately, the session's over. That'll be 10 thousand bucks. You're welcome.
Remind Ifti to be quieter at email@example.com