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Just flat, listless. So much has felt accidental, unnecessary, arbitrary. It’s been lacking a dimension. Something seems to be missing.
“Depression is a serious illness. It’s physically painful, debilitating. And you can’t just decide to get over it in the same way you can’t just decide to get over cancer.
How can we know ourselves without this solitude?
it better to be paired up or alone?
you also know things are real when they can be lost.”
It doesn’t look like Jake. Not at all. It looks like a little girl. More precise: it looks like me.
