Notes from the Post it Wall | Week of July 28, 2019
I can’t put my finger on exactly why, but driving to and/or through Chicago’s western suburbs is an emotional drive through the deepest and darkest pools of my depression.
I can’t put my finger on exactly why, but driving to and/or through Chicago’s western suburbs is an emotional drive through the deepest and darkest pools of my depression.
There was no thunder, no glowing doorway, no mysterious wind blowing through the apartment, and no choir of angels politely alerting me that physics had submitted its resignation.
The deck simply felt heavier.