An Open Letter, or, Non-Adventures in the Void

To my old friend Depression,

Nice try. No, really, it was. You've always been a sly little bitch that quietly creeps in unnoticed, but the sneak attack of nearly overwhelming apathy was a new one. You slipped in, wrapped me up in gauze and stashed me into the corner of my own mind, lost in the Void. I could still feel emotion, but from a great distance. Passion, happiness, sadness; while not gone, nearly inaccessable. To the casual observer, everything seemed to be fine. I got up, I went to work, I cooked dinner, and I did it every day. But, it all meant nothing. I felt (nearly) nothing. I lost weeks.

But we've danced this dance, in one form or another, for a couple of decades now. You may be able to creep in, but I have learned to creep in, too. I rebuilt the connection from me to me, that which makes me. I've learned over the years that it isn't enough to survive. I enjoy living.

So cue the Gloria Gaynor music. I will survive.

In short, my old friend - Fuck. You.