Black depressions will change some relationships beyond reparable recovery. Skimping out of them isn’t half as bright as walking into spring sunshine… it’s a slow trudge interspersed with weeks of consciously neglecting medication and then going back to it because the weepy spells become debilitating and losing people takes away inch by inch of my person.
There have been no emails in the Trash for a full week now and it seems like the novelty of freshness has finally overpowered and overcome the phase of mourning and re-courting. It ought to feel like the ultimate closure I have waited for, but it’s curiously unsettling.
Something about last night’s encounter was very disturbing. I was flattered and spirited and then it all fell before me. It was another instance of something that was supposed to resolve last night but neither did it sort itself out and nor did it end amicably. Piqued anticipation and associated stress and then an anti-climax with no returns. This morning has been terrible. Finally at the end of the whole ten hours the meltdown set in. Anger more than remorse.
