No matter who I've mentioned it to, when the word "depression" is brought up on conversation, people tend to pull back and give people their space. The statement is usually followed by an inquiry as to "why" one is feeling depressed. Why? If I really knew why I was depressed, I wouldn't be addressing it to you. I tell you as a relief to myself and to inform you that I am... falling steeply into a hole that, later on, I won't be able to dig myself out of. I don't wish for you to understand; I believe that is too much of a burden on both sides (you see, I don't have the time to tell you my entire life story). What I plead for is a little bit of compassion and just, time. A minute. A text. A greeting. A sincer concern. So far, I've only received that from one person and I'm glad that person goes out of her way to make room for me. Now, since I am done venting, I will like to announce that I might start making a new series on a post-apoc. world. Stay tuned.

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