And so I asked her, what is it like to be real?
And that’s the most frustrating thing about depression. It isn’t always something you can fight back against with hope. It isn’t even something — it’s nothing. And you can’t combat nothing. You can’t fill it up. You can’t cover it. It’s just there, pulling the meaning out of everything. That being the case, all the hopeful, proactive solutions start to sound completely insane in contrast to the scope of the problem.
It would be like having a bunch of dead fish, but no one around you will acknowledge that the fish are dead. Instead, they offer to help you look for the fish or try to help you figure out why they disappeared.
The problem might not even have a solution. But you aren’t necessarily looking for solutions. You’re maybe just looking for someone to say “sorry about how dead your fish are” or “wow, those are super dead. I still like you, though.”"
Mickey has nephews, Donald has nephews, Goofy has a son.
And he wasn’t adopted, he looks just like him.
Goofy……has had sex.
Goofy…..has known a woman biblically….
Imagine what it must’ve looked like.
Imagine what it sounded like.
These are the things I think about when I wake up in the middle of the night, drenched in sweat.