Depression sets in like an annoying buzzing mosquito, hungry for some answers. It likes to interrogate me about all the times I have ever felt sad. Every. Single. Time. I. Felt. Down. It puts all those scenes in slow motion on a projector outside in my backyard, on display for all uninvited intruders to mock. It pays no mind to how embarrassed I felt during each one of those moments. With a cackle it only wants to feel satisfied, but finds that it can’t ever feel that way. Every image that pops up onto the projector only scoops up the darkness and rolls it into a giant ball of yarn. Bigger and bigger the ball gets, until there’s no more room in the room. No one ever can see inside this room except for me and the mosquito. And the mosquito won’t go away! It attacks any open spot on my skin, like a grenade in a war zone, and my heart explodes each time someone’s negative words are brought up once again. This mosquito is el diablo I tell you. It won’t let me get out of bed. I’m perpetually in my pajamas while everyone else is bringing home the bacon. I’m stuck in the memory of my father dragging my legs out to make them move and make me get up, but I never do. I’m taking the same warm shower over and over again, changing into my extra large gray T-shirt and drowning onto the bed, unable to wake up from this nightmare. There’s no escape. It’s all one Möbius strip. Tomorrow Depression is on the menu again and the barista can’t wait to brew a tall one for me.