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next Argument last night. My eyelids are still puffy and burning. I sit there listening to him, beyond furious, and tell myself that I am depressed, I do deserve to see a therapist and get a prescription for anti-depressants and get on with my life. But I can't quite convince myself it's true. I've read so many magazine articles about depression that I refuse to allow myself to believe I'm depressed. I don't fit the profile. I am nothing if not scrupulous. These things matter. I even took some (stupid! fucking!) online quizlet that reported, nope, you're fine. You don't have a problem. Go away. So if that's not my problem, what is my problem? prev archive next 0 comments random |