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A Case Of The I Don’t Cares

Fish Of Gold

My depression has taken root again. Depression on antidepressants is interesting. It’s way different from depression without them. With the antidepressants, I’m not crying all the time. I don’t hear a voice screaming that I should just end it. In fact, it’s so subtle that, if I were not well versed in depression having had it my entire adult life, I wouldn’t even notice it was there.

This time, my depression has taken the form of a fair to middling sense of malaise and generally not caring about anything at all. I don’t care about anything. I don’t care about this blog, my friends, getting a new job or even my appearance. I’ve worn a ponytail to work for the last three days because I can’t be bothered to do anything with my hair. I have blown off my friends so that I can sit in my darkened house not…

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