I think you're depressed. The words curl around my ankle like a tangle of seaweed and drag at my feet. I feel like I'm walking through jello. Depressed? Depressed? Am I? I don't know. I pick my feelings up, one by one, like rocks, and inspect them for bugs. They seem functional. Round and grey and heavy. I don't know. When was the last time I felt... ...happiness? It comes in bursts, like rainbow soap bubbles, and then is gone without a residue. When happiness is not there, there is just... ...nothing. Is that normal? I don't know. There's not despair. There's not hope. There's just....nothing. A flat grey void, like Utah in the winter. Words bubble up from somewhere around my neck, the thought surfacing like the little white triangle in a magic 8 ball. Nothing is fun, and everything makes me angry. That can't be good. . Rosie.
Before&After
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