In a world without depression, I wouldn’t be a master of pretending. The simplest of things wouldn’t exhaust me. If I didn’t have depression I wouldn’t go through those weeks where I avoid human contact at all costs.
I need to remember everything I have overcome. I need to remind myself that I am a strong person capable of beautiful things.
Heartworm: a relationship or friendship that you can’t get out of your head, which you thought had faded long ago but is still somehow alive and unfinished, like an abandoned campsite whose smoldering embers still have the power to start a forest fire.
Listening to the sounds of nature.
His studied cool, like a high-roller blowing smoke rings with overdone unconcern, is a dead giveaway. So, too, is the plinkety-plink of marimba keys, so high they make a sharp, brittle noise, like bones, as he sings those words.