- …..each day was numbingly similar to the one preceding it, and she started to wonder if maybe this isn’t what that strange thing called depression was. Nothing dramatic, nothing transcendent, nothing earthshaking…..just more and more of the same old boring stuff day after day without any new wrinkles—ever. Understand now, she was in love with life—Don’t presume otherwise, okay?!—yet if it had ever been truly stimulating to her—and, under careful scrutiny, she wasn’t altogether sure that it had—such stimulation had ceased to exist long long ago, sometime before she fell into a drudge-laden profession and stopped meeting new people and making new acquaintances. Every day was paralyzingly the same for her now, the exact same—Xeroxed copies piled atop one another in a disheveled heap. She didn’t know what to call this lame state of affairs currently facing her—Was it in fact clinical depression???—but, looking back, she did remember there was a time not so distant when she hadn’t come within ten miles of being constantly buffeted by these suffocating trade winds of melancholy…..
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Fred's Soapbox 