Dear Depression…

Posted: April 11, 2011 in Depression
Tags: , , , , , , , , ,

You are such a pansy!

Just a whiff of sunshine and you go yapping off like a Yorkie with a fistula. I didn’t hear a peep from you the entire month I was in South Africa, and here you try to come creeping back in the gloomy drizzle of Vancouver.

Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. You lost. Game over. See, if you had real balls you would’ve stuck around while I cavorted about my homeland making an ass of myself and watching my grandpa say goodbye to the land he loved for 82 years. If you had true cajones you would’ve forced me to bow my head and contemplate the dreariness of my existence right under the nose of that burning ball of gas irradiating my face. Spat in its eye even as it hung there all mighty and proud, turning my features into a golden crisp.

Any Depression worth his salt would flex his muscles and wind up for a good crack when the going gets tough. Those beautiful rays looking like they might bring me out of my funk? You know what to do. Kierkegaard me right in the kid-creators. Nietzsche me right in the nuts. Kafka me right in the crotch. Plath me right in the pipe-pits. Make the clouds so dark inside I want to vomit, abandon this site, start a LiveJournal, and write angsty poetry about the hopelessness of it all.

But did I see any of that? Nope! Out came the sun and dried up all the rain, so Incy Wincy Depression skulked off and hid again. Funny how much of a pansy you are without your henchmen OCD and GAD tagging along. (Actually, from now on those two idiots are being referred to as Beebop and Rocksteady when I’m writing to you.)

It may be weepier than a room full of tweens watching The Notebook out there, but I’m not bothered. I’ve got a handle on you now. And besides, sunshine is just around the corner. Wuss.

Baskingly yours,
Bezuidenthustra

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