Black Dog takes over

Sometimes, you read something, and you just gasp as you realise, ‘that’s me.’ Inability to even… feel. The last thing I felt was my head finally going over the edge, on Morning morning, as the sooty clouds of oblivion closed in and the Black Dog just took hold of lfe’s gearstick. I ought to be better at dealing with this sort of stuff; the brain’s just another muscle, after all, and it can be fixed. What can you do, when you know something’s gone snap inside your skull but doing anything about it just sounds like an appalling self-indulgence?

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