VivaCity

Ahh, depression, my old friend. I've missed you, where have you been? I've been far too happy for far too long. Something just didn't feel right and now I realize...I haven't been depressed for some time now. It's like a lot of crest-y little waves with no undertow to pull you down and how can that be good? To be "up," all the time? You would glide over the waves with a glib smile pasted firmly on your face and no clue of the very real dangers below. To be consistently happy, or at least not unhappy, for such a long period of time that you forget how it used to be...dark, warm, familiar blanket of sadness that I pull around my shoulders like a long-lost friend. I feel more intelligent, this way, honestly, that by understanding the cruel downsides of reality I am more in tune with it. Because you can't go traipsing through life without paying the piper something...Nobody has the perfect life. Nobody has absolutely no problems, no worries, no mistakes etched in stone to haunt them...Except maybe Paris Hilton. That bitch needs a reality check. What does she DO, anyways? What is her OCCUPATION?? I'm desperate to know. Desperate and...sad. Sad, but this a comfortable sadness, familiar tears and slumped shoulders and shadow of a voice.

So wish me luck finding my lost bottle of St. John's Wort, how very like you to go missing in the heat of battle, St. John, and I'll see you tomorrow...Who knows? I could wake up tomorrow my dryly sarcastic old self and we'll revisit the topic of foreign translation on U.S. soil.