No Depression Here

I’ll not write of depressing things that make you sad or make you want to crawl into a hole and die, though that is where I'd like to be sometimes. I’m not going to write about how much my stomach churns and burns with disgust as I think of things that have happened in the past few weeks both my fault and of your doing. No, that's not going to happen here. I’m not going to say that I’m tired of it all, or that I don't think I can go anymore, or that I just really want to lay you out with my fist. That wouldn't be very uplifting. I’m not going to talk about how when I sleep I have dreams of the things you've done that make me cry, that steal my focus, that change the way I view the world. No, you don't have that power over me. I’m not going to sit up all night until 4 a.m. wondering what you are doing or what dreams you are having or if you think of me at all. I’m not going to even go there. I’m not going to keep on with the annoying tirades of someone who has lost their mind, who can't get over it, who holds onto everything that passes their way. I’m certainly not going to sit here and whine and complain and then wonder if anyone will care because I know that would be a useless idea to ponder. But hey, at least I’m happy.