Depression, my old friend. You have come back to see me. You have come back to spend time. You snuck up on me over the summer. I didn't recognize that was you, until this week. This week, when I decided to change everything, and my energy burst didn't last. But, then you had been exposed. Sitting on my brain, my soul, like the great ugly bear that you are.
But you see, old fiend, the energy burst was just long enough: I have a plan. I have a goal. I have an agenda. I made these before you unveiled and pounced, old vile fool.
You forced the plans. We played your game. You dragged me down, and others noticed, even if I didn't. Change is inevitable, growth optional. I choose to grow, and having made that choice, you cannot stop me.
So, I say, Depression Old Friend, fuck you. You can sap my energy, but you cannot stop my plan. You cannot undo the growth I have set in motion, because of you.
The month goes to you, but the battle is mine.
Fuck you, Old Fraud. Fuck you, with a jackhammer.
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