Depression is a demon with which many of us grapple on a daily basis. For men, consistent failures with women can undoubtedly serve as a trigger for serious bouts of depression. No doubt, many of you lurkers out there are experiencing exactly this and have come to /r/TheRedPill looking for a panacea from the pain that plagues your life daily. Maybe you've come here hoping that the knowledge contained within this sub can help you overcome depression, turn your life around, and all sorts of wonderful magical things.

TRP can do just that.

Today, I woke up, read some Machiavelli, made up a new resume, listened to some Mozart, drank some wine, and watched Cosmos, all while sexting a girl that I spent all last weekend fucking into submission but could absolutely totally live without. As recently as 2 years ago, this isn't a place I would have ever imagined myself. I've suffered from depression for the better part of 15 years (basically all of my adult life). In that time, I've attempted suicide 3 times, and thought about it for more time than I can tally up. I've experienced the full spectrum of self-loathing. I've shrunk into corners at parties only to slink quietly home and curl up in a ball on the couch. I've been a professional homebody and avoided social situations as if they meant certain death. I've sat on my bed, catatonic, and stared at a paint chip at the wall. Name a fucked up irrational behavior that accompanies depression and I've been there and back and I've got the god damn race bib.

Through all this, I've also been a chronic victim of what I've come to know as "oneitis". If you've been around TRP for awhile, you know this is our clinical term for what is sometimes romanticized as "unrequited love". This has, at many points in my life, been a catalyst for severe bouts of depression. Obsessions with exes or with women in my life I couldn't have... it was a serious strain on my mental health.

My last case of oneitis that I had before discovering TRP was with someone, let's call her Heather, with whom I was very close. We spent a lot of late nights talking about our hopes and dreams and ambitions, fears, the creative process, synesthesia, things like that. We opened up to one another in a way that neither of us were accustomed to. Then one night a spark ignited between us: We made out for awhile. She gave me some lame LMR, and I, having not yet swallowed the red pill, "respected her boundaries" and called it a night. The next day, she gave me a firm and proper friend-zoning. I was devastated. I couldn't figure out what had gone wrong (turns out, she needed an alpha in her life to treat her like a piece of meat, and found it in someone else), and spiraled into one of the worst bouts of depression I'd had in a long time.

My first RP revelation came some months later. One night, I was particularly angry at Heather, and I used it as leverage to provide myself with a moment of clarity. Heather is... maybe a 6, if that. I live in a relatively small town in a sparsely populated state, too. She'd be like a 3 1/2 if we lived in say, San Diego. My emotional connection with Heather was the only thing that made this hard for me... so I took a cold, clinical approach. I said to myself: I can do better than her. And I did just that.

I looked through my phone and found Megan's number. I sent her a text "Ay gurl, let's hang out." We did. We had a fantastic night together, and we fucked. Megan is better looking and generally nicer than Heather, and Heather used to rip on Megan all the time. All I had to do was not be negative to get someone even better than Heather to ride my cock. It defies all logic, yet there it was.

I've been in several plays, musicals, and operas over the years. I've never considered myself a master of stagecraft, but simply by playing the role of an alpha male, the whole rest of the world played along. I felt good for the first time in as long as I can remember. I don't know if it was embracing RP truth, accepting my masculine side in a big way, or blasting all over Megan's face that caused this change in my demeanor, but there it was.

What was the lesson to be learned here? I remembered back to boot camp. There's this drill movement referred to as a "column movement" (it's essentially when a platoon turns left or right), and I recall that one of the squads had to do multiple pivots, even though a single pivot put them exactly where they needed to be. Our kill-hat used to tell us "fake the funk". We would turn our feet in an odd direction and pretend to pivot even though we didn't change directions. It was pretty fucking weird... but all these years later, it had a new and special relevance in my life.

"Fake the funk"

Do you know how to tell the difference between someone who pretends to be confident and someone who really is? You can't. You know why? Because there is none. Tell yourself that you're all that and a bag of chips. For those with chronically low self esteem, of course you're not going to believe it, but what I'm saying to you is that that doesn't even fucking matter.

If you're like me and you pump iron and have an overactive libido, the "getting pussy" aspect of TRP is an exceptionally attractive one. If you take one thing away from this post, let it be this: The "self-improvement" aspect of TRP is far more important. Lift weights. Read books. Be an interesting human being. Be witty. Be coy. Learn the art of double entendre. Make Theodore Roosevelt your new personal hero (and don't call him "Teddy"... show some respect, you fucking faggots).

The truth is that I still struggle with depression every day. I still doubt myself in every social situation. I still have nearly overwhelming moments of "Oh god, she hates me. I can't do this." The difference is this: Where before I felt I was trying to beat back a horde of demons with a willow branch, now I'm armed with a shotgun and a chainsaw. The evil is still there, but I have a boomstick, so it doesn't fuck with me nearly as often.

If you suffer from depression, take two red pills and call me in the morning.