Depression’s seeped in. Second day inside. I couldn’t walk without pain anyway. Wearing new sandals Thursday night wrecked my feet, especially my left. I’m not surprised, nor should you be. Chronic illness–one of them, RA–exacerbates another–depression, and vice versa. Vicious cycle. I look for the blessings, the bright side, all I have, and it’s not enough at times. So I turn to music, almost against my will. Well, depression lives off sadness, lack of hope, and despair. Music could kill it.

For two hours I’ve sung favorite songs, some that feed the pain of loneliness and one that, laugh if you want, I find a “put up your dukes” song. The video’s full of beautiful supermodels and a seductive voice and beat that make my body move every time. For some reason watching, singing, and moving to it makes me a beautiful supermodel, too.

I take awfully strong drugs that can’t make that happen.




Lack of communication is unhealthy.

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