When I was a kid, I was convinced I came from K-Mart. After all, that’s where you buy things that start with a “K.”

I’ve had a low-grade depression for the past few months that I just can’t seem to shake. It’s affecting my desire to talk to people and the ability to get things done. I can’t concentrate, I have no drive and, when I’m not feeling terrible, inept and/or repulsive, I just feel blank.

I’ve never been fond of talking about it, probably out of a lingering shame, but I’ve battled depression on and off for at least ten years now. After so long, you just kind of live with it and figure out ways to best keep it at bay. So I’m a little annoyed that none of my strategies are doing their job. I’d fire them if I had the motivation.

I am beginning to think, however, that perhaps I was right about the K-Mart thing. My brain is obviously cheaply made because no matter how many times I glue it back together, it always falls apart again. I would return it if only it came with a receipt, perhaps exchanging it for a coffee maker so the caffeinated deliciousness could percolate directly into my mouth. Or maybe a giant Pez dispenser so I could be a source of constant, sugary joy.

In the end, a record player might be best, because my head would always be singing.
I think I might like that.

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