Mary and Max

A tale of friendship between two unlikely pen pals: Mary, a lonely, eight-year-old girl living in the suburbs of Melbourne, and Max, a forty-four-year old, severely obese man living in New York.

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 coldness of the life. There is no good person in the world, there is no sense of life, there is no hapinnes in the world, there is nothing funny to do. But I won't do this. Medicines are really useful. They're changing our brain. I want to be in a closed room, I don't want to eat, I hardly ever sleep, but I'm tired. My willing is just to make me being physically smaller, to become a dot in a nowhere and to forget about everything. I have headaches. I almost haven't eaten anything for a couple a days, I'm sad, unsuccessful, bad in every possible way. There is no meaningless of living. We've been born. We're going to dye. We're nothing. I'm isolated, obsessed with horrible thoughts, (horrible from my point of view). These thoughts are as normal as they could be. I'm right but nobody understands me. Acting happiness and smiling and funny person makes me feeling even worse after a while. The first thing I'm going to do is to push walls around me, to make me feel pain, to be alone and to do nothing – because, there is nothing to do. The only one friend I believed in disappointed me. Nobody cares. The next state is that I would try to be “normal”. I'm buying stupid cosmetics instead of going to travel. I'm talking to people, doing this as they do. Pretending being cool and perfect. Funny. Communicative. Everything went bad because it's not me. Go ahead! Now, I'm Max: Einstein said there were only two infinite things: cosmos and one's stupidity. I agree with him. I am different, I'm maybe even smart, I'm trying to understand the world. Maybe others are, too. Different, and also triers. I like chocolate, I don't have friends, there is no justice in the world. Anxiety and changing mood are no so simple things. Feeling are unpredictable, emotions are strong. Emotions are strong but undefined. I gave up. My psychiatrist is giving me instructions how to act in real life. “This is good, this is bad, in this situation you have to cry, in this to laugh, in this to imitate some nerd.” I was even using small notebook where I wrote “acting explanations”. I met Mary, but who cares. I'm used to living on my own. There is no friend. I am distanced form everyday life, like there is invisible barrier between me and others. It makes me being special; but obviously not in a good way. We're now good friends. She is the best one for me; but also the only one. Oh, there are more freaks here. Haha. Impossible. She understands my needs, my mind, my reactions, my way of viewing stuff. The second – don't worry. Robots are walking down the streets. Everyone is the same as the others. They define themselves as normal guys. Just define, don't worry. You can define them as you want The left person is copy of the right one. Everyone is the same. Everyone has striped hair, blue narrow jeans, the equal brains, the equal opinion. It's easier acting like they are acting. Just go down the street, listen to the others, turn off your mind, point of view the world and your charm. Just be like others. Be stupid. Be robot. I'm starting to believe Einstein. This is not myth he's very smart. But also you need to be good. Brave, beautiful, funny, intelligent, popular,...(just kidding) ;) Be who you are, and help humanity. And believe there are also people worth respecting, because they are not robots. You just have to find them. Also they'll find you. They exist. Look bright, go straight. We're here and we can't run out of it. Imagine our life is one adventure we are lucky to have chance to play in. You're not a weirdo. Just go on, enjoy the adventure, be yourself, even when you have to be pathetic as I am now. :) After that, sense of life will come to you; you don't have to search so much! Just relax ;) Let the game begin! Written by Mary and Max, December 2016, for goodness of the world