Retitled

“Not that Republican fans of small government have ever needed something to actually exist in order to legislate against it.”

seeing a hot guy walk by like

My buddy read an article about octopus intelligence. It was feeding time, and the handler dumped some shrimp into an octopus’ tank. Then he went into another room and sat at his desk.

@_@

So, the joke goes something like– (and stop me if you’ve heard this one before) it goes something like, two kids with depression walk into a relationship. Now, the bartender asks– wait, shit, sorry. See, there isn’t any bartender, ‘cause, let’s be honest: they’re not doing their drinking by the glass, they’re doing it by the bottle. Okay. Okay, so, the therapist says—but I mean, who can afford a therapist, these days? But the antidepressants, the antidepressants say, “I haven’t worked in two years, but my list of side effects is too long for you to ever leave me. I am where you learned to be needed.”   So they’re coping. Of course, she’s forgotten how to talk about herself in first person, while he offers up his life’s story like it’s a joke only he finds funny. Turns out the world is just as heavy on two sets of shoulders.   Two kids with depression walk into a supermarket. Two kids with depression walk into a doctor’s office, walk into a brick wall, walk into the same bad day three hundred and fifty six times and call it normal. The only thing I know about this punchline is that I’m not gonna like it. That it looks like a hurricane of nothing. Of repetition. Of wake up, wake up, wake up. Of moving just fast enough to be considered alive, but only in the way a houseplant is considered alive, or a creeper vine. Plenty of things are still here simply because they don’t know how not to be.   My boyfriend talks about death like a place he has tried to visit—like a destination he is always pointed towards, even when it is not the place he is going. For me, I don’t bother aiming for an ending when, most days, I don’t feel like I ever started. What I mean is–   Depression is ugly. And it’s easy to backslide when you are trying to climb mountains, but that does not make you a failure. Two kids with depression woke up this morning, walked all the way to tomorrow and the day after that. Two kids with depression are still walking. That might not sound like much to you.   What I mean is we’re a couple of fighters and we are still here. In spite of everything. Or maybe because of it. What I mean is suicide is not cowardice, but it is, without a doubt, an act of bravery to survive.