The Doing is the Thing

This object (me) at rest is so very invested in remaining so.

I’m not sure if I’m depressed.

It’s not a matter of shame. Probably its the whole notion that depressed means sad, and I am not sad. I am tired. I am withdrawn. I am unwilling to engage. I am numb.

Having been diagnosed as depressed a number of years ago, I have vague recollections it was just like that.

What to do? As dad used to say, “Do something. Even if it’s wrong”

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