Depression is for people who think they are significant in some way.
You are not significant. Just enjoy your brief little life and stop making everyone around you miserable, and I will try to do the same.
You are not significant. Just enjoy your brief little life and stop making everyone around you miserable, and I will try to do the same.
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"And there isn't one."
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My boots were slung crooked on the ground
of thinking, I'd stood a week,
and before one month passed the cracking sounds
had stiffened my neck and roused the meek.
Although I had cherished my compassion
like a rusting compass, biting insects snipped in, in droves;
this further and the reality that drowning happens
should not have been enough to temp me from my alcove;
I tended this fire but I hadn't built this road,
an isometric forest, myself an issuant alone.
I knew the paned quagmire,
lit a fire and stood there for great while,
then I called over when my son died
to the men sat on the other side.
The woods in which this is set is
rubbing by me like ratty trees
with gasaleen and who am I kidding? We all care.
Before you leave now clothe me
like I'm being vetted, like you can
array me,
beneath a million stars, each sewn in
to each of us.
I am terrified of medication. I don't want to be obliterated. I have witnessed too much paliative care to be able to go out there and get it. And my mum is a doctor.
I think that there has to be a positive ballence between spiritual and chemical renewal. T