That's the thing about depression; it inures you to wonder, even to fear. Skulls are chattering and squealing and all you can do is sigh and accept that they're right, that your best days ARE behind you, to agree that you've gotten too old and fat and aren't good for anything but making blintzes, and blintzes are delicious, but they are no adventure, and you are unable to recognize the adventure going on around you.

-Veronica Schanoes

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