dear depression

Dear Depression,

If we are to get along together as roommates, there must be rules in place. First, so long as we abide in this glass house, we shall not cast stones. Second, don’t interrupt me or finish my sentences–it pisses me off. In return, I won’t talk over you, but allow you to speak your piece. Thirdly, let us do our best to stay out one another’s way–I won’t hinder your comings and goings so long as you don’t hinder mine. Fourthly, mind your own fucking business. I don’t need your opinion on every goddamn thing I say and do. And finally, feel free to move out any time. I don’t like you that much.

Very sincerely,



5 thoughts on “dear depression

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  1. I had clinical depression for years due to a brain tumor on my frontal lobe. Thankfully the depression stopped when they removed the tumor. I wish all depression could be surgically removed. I did not like mine very much either. Great dialogue.

    have an encouragement blog you might want to visit when you have some time. Blessings.

  2. I feel ya. I hope your depression does take a hike pretty soon — sounds like he or she is a pretty ungrateful roommate. Say, has your depression paid any rent lately? If yours is anything like mine, he ought to at *least* help me pay the bills. And pestering me while I’m trying to concentrate — who the hell does he think he is? I’ll never get any work done — what with that freeloader in my face. Burns me up.

    1. Depression: “You asshole. You never do anything.”

      So, guilt-stricken, I scuttle off to have some tea, rekindle my creativity, and try something new.

      Depression: “That’s stupid. It’ll never pan out. You should probably chuck that, straightaway.”

      He’s that toxic friend that comes over, sets upon your fridge like a devouring locust, then complains there’s no food in the house. Jerkhole.

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