Depression is such a cruel punishment. There are no fevers, no rashes, no blood tests to send people scurrying in concern. Just the slow erosion of the self, as insidious as any cancer. And, like cancer, it is essentially a solitary experience. A room in hell with only your name on the door.
RIP Richard Attenborough - (August 29, 1923 - August 24, 2014)
I can really complain about things now.
"i can’t eat that, i’ll get fat"
"i can’t sleep in late today i have to do work"
"no i can’t watch a whole season in one go that’s lazy"