Depression
022892
Depression. This bland, bleek weather. How long now. How many of
these terrible winters what I endured. I cannot stay awak. My lives
fall apart. I go crazy. I hate living for eight months. For the male
dominated part of the year I am in servitude and in pain. I want to
be taken care of. I want to die. I hate myself and everyone. I
cannot stand this. What should I do. I become a lunatic, and yet the
moon is even distant. I have taken too much of this and want it away
but I don’t know how to make it do so.
