You don’t know the first thing about depression

A year ago you were in Truckee glued to a couch. You wrote about your depression, but you went for a bike ride.

Here's what real depression is, my shallow diving novice. I've lived here full time for a year. I haven't been on the trails once.

I moved the couch back the way I like it in March. That was a big day.

I don't feel better. My meds don't work. Psychedelics are a joke against the real deal. If you're still doing that work and you don't know this, you should stop.

Your relationship didn't fail. It succeeded better than anything else you've done. Because of me. You were shit the whole time! Me, me, me, me.

You can't have depression. You haven't a clue. You are insulting the traumatized. The gaslighted. The attacked. The sexually abused like me.

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