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yaz-the-spaz · 5 years

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Beautiful Monster (Part 3)

so this is the last installation that will be posted on tumblr! the complete fic will be posted on ao3 later tonight has now been posted on ao3!

also this was supposed to be my New Year’s Day gift to you guys but i just didn’t have a chance to review it like i wanted to in time so it’s just gonna have to be a (way) belated New Year’s gift lol but on the bright side inspiration did happen to strike for the threequel fic during the interim of me finalizing the edits for this fic so it all worked out in the end and you’ll actually be getting a double feature/double belated New Year’s present cause the latest chapter for that will be up soon too (most likely by tomorrow)!

Summary: Zayn is a homeless vampire who, unbeknownst to Liam, has been routinely breaking into Liam’s van for a warm place to sleep. When Liam catches him in the act things end up going in a direction no one expected. And then shit gets weirder. Because Liam might also be hiding some secrets of his own…

Part 1 here

It’s a Thursday afternoon when Niall pops by out of the blue.

The doorbell rings and Zayn goes to answer it cause Liam’s in the middle of feeding the dogs their dinner. He figures it’s probably just someone trying to sell something anyway and he’d rather just let Zayn be the one to tell them to bugger off, but he snaps up when he hears a familiar voice on the other side, that familiar Irish brogue that he’d recognize anywhere.

“Um…hello. You’re not Liam. Liam does still live here, yeah?”

Zayn nods politely. “He does. Who’s asking?”

“His mate, Niall. And you are?”

Zayn perks up at this news, seemingly excited to be meeting a friend of Liam’s, sticks out a hand and smiles brightly. “Zayn, Liam’s live-in booty call.”

Liam blanches, rushing over to the door stiffly.

“Um, Niall, hey,” he says, ushering Niall inside quickly, hoping the previous topic of conversation goes forgotten. “I didn’t know you were in town, when’d you get in?”

“Just a couple hours ago. Only here for the weekend really, but I came straight here cause I had to see my Payno of course. How’ve you been, mate? Pretty well I’m assuming,” he says with a grin, dropping his bags just inside the door and turning back to size Zayn up appreciatively.

“Uh, yeah, you know, same old, same old mostly. Work’s been good and the dogs are okay, can’t complain. Zayn is—” he stops, not quite sure how exactly to describe what Zayn is and opting instead to just skirt around it. “Zayn’s been a great help. He’s just, um, he’s staying here temporarily until he can get back on his feet.”

“Oh…okay.” Niall nods but he still looks a little confused, though he doesn’t inquire any further, maybe sensing somehow that it’s not something Liam’s really eager to talk about right now in front of present company.

Zayn smiles at Niall politely, offering to take his coat and Niall shrugs out of it obediently, kicking off his shoes in the process.

Niall follows Liam into the kitchen as Zayn goes to put up his coat and bag and when they’re a safe distance away Niall leans into him and says, “So, what exactly is going on here? Is this, like, a roommate situation? You short on cash or something and renting out your couch? Or are you two dating and you decided to jump the gun and let him move in early or…? Cause, I mean, I know I miss a lot sometimes when I’m gone especially when I have no cell service but when I last FaceTime’d you a couple months ago you said you still weren’t seeing anyone and now you’ve apparently got a live-in boyfriend? What’s the story there?”

Liam shrugs, avoiding Niall’s eyes. “None of the above but also sort of…all of the above?” Liam sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It’s complicated, okay? But he’s not my boyfriend. We’re just…”

“Sleeping together while you let him stay in your house till he gets back on his feet?”

Liam looks at him miserably but Niall raises his hands in defense. “Hey, I’m not judging. If it works, it works. As long as you’re happy, you know? That’s all that matters to me. And I mean, he’s well fit so, y’know, good job there.” He smirks. And then a thought seems to occur him and leans in a bit closer, lowers his voice even more, serious now. “Does he know about your…you know?” he asks.

“No,” Liam says emphatically. “And I plan to keep it that way.”

Niall nods solemnly in understanding, dropping the subject and Liam’s grateful.

Niall’s the only “normal” mate he’s got who knows about his secret and has still stuck around. But he travels a lot, always backpacking through Europe or spelunking in Asia or hitchhiking across the Americas (yes, Americas as in plural, as in hitchhiking his way from Canada all the way down to Argentina) so Liam usually only really sees him about twice out of the year most years—for the holidays and whenever else he happens to be in town and decide to pop by Liam’s out of the blue like he’s just done. They’ve been friends pretty much since they wound up roomed together at uni, where Niall, the only actual geography major Liam had ever met, would stay up late talking Liam’s ear off about all the places he wanted to travel to (not that Liam minded cause Niall’s a great storyteller and Liam actually learned a lot from him over those years about all sorts of different places). When Niall discovered travel blogging and found out there was a way he could actually get paid to travel he jumped at the opportunity and has been pretty much steadily country-hopping ever since they graduated. They talk on the phone as often as they can when Niall’s got service or access to decent working wi-fi and Liam’s got a whole drawer full of postcards Niall’s sent him over the years. But even though they don’t see each other as often as Liam would like Niall’s still one of his best mates and apparently still knows him too well.

He stays for dinner and after a bit the slight awkwardness hanging in the air seems to dissipate and the three of them are eating and talking like they’ve all known each other for years instead of just him and Niall. Niall regales them with stories of his latest travels; an incident with goats stealing and apparently trying to eat his luggage in Papua New Guinea, the triumphs of winning over and befriending the meanest donkey in all of Greece, how he was unofficially adopted by one of the elders in a bamboo-weaving village called Ngũ Xã and now has a Vietnamese grandmother.

Liam laughs so much his cheeks are sore by the end of the night, as are his abs, but such is the usual with Niall. As is also the usual with Niall though is the inevitable goodbye and Liam’s already dreading it before it comes but he’s still glad to have had this surprise visit at all even if it was a bit awkward at first. As he hugs Liam goodbye Niall promises he’ll be coming home more often from here on out though and that’s enough to warm Liam’s spirits for now despite his too-sudden departure as Niall sees himself out with a wave and bright grin, rucksack slung over his shoulder. And then Liam is alone with Zayn again. Alone with his own uncertainties and feelings and his messy thoughts.

“So what do you guys actually do at these conferences?” Zayn asks in the van on their way back from another highway roadkill stock-up just before Liam’s due to leave again. “Do you just, like, sit around eating barbeque, crushing beer cans against your heads, arm wrestling and organizing pissing contests whilst talking about construction stuff?”

Liam snorts, flashing an amused grin at Zayn. “Is that what you imagine we do? Like a giant frat party or something?”

“Well, yeah, I mean, it certainly sounds kinda like one. I mean you meet every month at some super secret location that—considering you have such shoddy service the whole weekend has gotta be, like, way out in the wilderness somewhere—just to eat a bunch of meat and drink beer with a bunch of other guys for three days. Sounds a hell of a lot like something a bunch of frat boys would do to me.”

“Bit unfair of you to assume that everyone who’d go to a construction conference is a guy, and a butch one at that,” Liam says deftly trying to change the subject.

“Touché. In retrospect, I guess that was an unfairly stereotypical judgment to make,” Zayn concedes with a nod. “But seriously though, what do you guys actually do besides grilling meat cause I’m having a hard time imaging what riveting events you could possibly get up to at a construction conference that would make everyone wanna come back as frequently as every month. D’you lot, like, exchange insider secrets on the performance of the construction trade in the stock market? Make elaborate bets on who’s gonna sell the most piping this year? Build a giant secret fortress in the woods? I mean, like, what is it?”

“Christ, look, it’s just a gathering of a bunch of like-minded people where we can just get together and blow off a bit of steam for a few days, okay?” he snaps, tone a bit too terse, a bit too defensive, although it’s not entirely a lie. Not really. But anyway he hadn’t even meant to snap, it’s just Zayn’s asking too many questions and it’s both not the time nor is Liam in the right mood or headspace to deal with being given the third-degree right now, even if it is half-jokingly. He’s wound up and on edge and he just really, really wants to get on the road already and be far away from here and away from Zayn and all his questions. “It’s not that big a deal, alright, so can we just drop it?”

Zayn raises his hands in defense. “Okay, okay, sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. I know you tend to get kinda testy and stressed out before these things, I didn’t mean to upset you, I shouldn’t have pushed.” Zayn’s quiet for a little while before he says softly, tentatively, like he’s afraid of setting Liam off again, “But maybe—I mean, I don’t know if you’re allowed to bring, like, a plus one to these things, but maybe…if you are…maybe one time I could come along with you—I mean, only if you want of course—but it’d just be nice to meet some of your mates, you know? I mean it’s been three months and I haven’t met any of them yet except for Niall, although, like, if you don’t want me to that’s cool too, I totally understand, but I just thought it’d be nice to, like, hang out, you know, like outside of the house.”

Fuck. There Liam goes again not thinking about anyone but himself. He hadn’t even considered that Zayn might feel like Liam’s hiding him. Like he’s a secret to be ashamed of. He wishes he could tell Zayn that that’s not why he hasn’t met any of Liam’s friends. That it has nothing to do with Zayn himself or their current living arrangements or Liam being ashamed of him and wanting to hide him away or keep him a secret.

But he can’t tell Zayn any of that without inviting more questions that he won’t be able to answer so instead he just mutters a noncommittal, “Maybe,” and leaves it at that, knowing full well it’s an empty half-promise because Zayn knowing anything about what actually goes on at these weekend gatherings would be a monumentally bad, bad idea.

Predictably he finds out anyway.

“What the he—Liam?” There’s a gentle touch at his shoulder. “Liam…Liam?”

Liam blinks gritty eyes open to bright sunlight streaming down on him, Zayn’s blurry face slowly coming into focus above him, sunlight bracketing his head like a halo. There’s a soreness that penetrates every muscle in his body, every fiber of his being, sunk down into his bones, his very cells, pumps through his blood like a visceral thing, but none of that’s new. This isn’t where he’s supposed to be though. The previous day is a blur and as usual he’s groggy as all hell but he’s aware enough to know immediately that this is not where he usually wakes up. Not where he’s supposed to be waking up. The grass, the trees, they’re too familiar. As is the face still currently looming above him.

“Zayn?” Liam croaks hoarsely in confusion, trying to sit up, to re-acclimate himself to this body.

“Are—are you…okay?” Zayn says, eyes full of concern as he looks Liam over.

“Course,” Liam says automatically without thinking. That gets him an even more concerned look from Zayn and Liam sits up properly, trying ineffectively to clear his throat of the raspiness that he already knows won’t fade for at least another couple of hours as he rubs at his eyes and takes in deep breaths of the crisp winter air to wake himself up fully. It’s not until he’s more alert and full awareness of the situation catches up to him that he realizes just how fucked he is—how this must all look to Zayn—and finds himself scrambling for some sort of halfway believable explanation but coming up completely blank.

He’s naked, covered in dirt and possibly a bit of blood, being woken up in his own backyard miles from the “conference” Zayn believed him to be at and smelling like absolute filth. And his first response had been to act like everything was totally fine and this was all completely normal—which it is for the most part, for him, with the exception of waking up in his own backyard. Zayn though is looking at him like he has two heads and Liam shakes his head quickly, trying to backtrack.

“I mean…um…” Liam falters, grasping at straws for to how to explain any of this without revealing everything he’s tried to keep so carefully hidden. “…Would you believe me if I said I was kidnapped and I have no idea how I got here?” he tries.

Zayn just blinks at him.

“So…your not-butch, not-all-male, not-douchy mates from the construction conference...that you just told me wasn’t at all like a frat…kidnapped you, stripped you, and left you naked and covered in dirt and blood in your own backyard…all as part of some sort of elaborate hazing ritual?” Zayn repeats slowly, squinting at Liam dubiously.

Liam nods, fidgeting in his seat at the counter in a lame attempt to avoid Zayn’s eyes. He’s showered and fully clothed now and nursing a mug of tea Zayn made for him to “warm him up” after being left naked in the freezing cold for so long. He doesn’t bother telling Zayn that he doesn’t really need it. The cold doesn’t much bother him in his other body, and even once he turns back it takes a little while for normal human sensitivity to really set back in anyway.

“So, then, are they gonna bring back your van too? And your clothes and all your other stuff that got left there?”

Liam looks up at him, startled two-fold. One, because he hadn’t expected Zayn to actually believe him, though he supposes he still might not but it could just be that he doesn’t wanna pry and is just willing to go along with it because he thinks it’s what Liam wants. And two, because he hadn’t thought of any of that himself and is now wondering how the hell he’s gonna reach the others to let them know what happened (and see if they can bring back his stuff for him) without his phone.

“You know, on second thought, I don’t think I wanna meet your friends after all if they’re the kind of arseholes that would pull some shit like this and just dip. Leave you with your dick swinging in the wind. Literally…” Zayn says, plopping into the seat next to him at the counter and shaking his head.

To be continued...

[Read the full rest of the full fic now on ao3]

#my fics #ziam #ziam fics #beautiful monster fic #homeless vampire zayn fic

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andrewdburton · 5 years

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Depression and me

For much of the past two weeks, I've been wrestling with my mental health. I could sense a crisis coming, so I scheduled some time away. I didn't want to have to be worrying about blog posts while I was worrying about everything else. Thus, my “summer vacation”.

Long-time readers are aware that I've struggled with depression for most of my life.

In sixth grade, I missed five weeks of school with what my father called “parrot fever”. (We had parrots, and he attributed my issues to a parrot allergy.) After our family physician could find nothing wrong with me, Dad took me to his therapist. Hushed conversations followed the appointment. The verdict: I was dealing with depression.

In junior high, I was briefly suicidal but made a deliberate decision to turn things around. In high school and college, the depression was always there, looming in the shadows. As a young adult, it mostly went away…but then it came back as I got older.

In 1999, when I was thirty, I experienced something new: anxiety. At one point, I thought I was having a heart attack. Nope. It was a panic attack. When the second panic attack came a few weeks later, I knew it wasn't my heart. It was me stressing about life.

Interesting note: It was after the second panic attack that my doctor strongly encouraged me to start drinking red wine. For real. Before that, I was a teetotaler.

During my divorce in 2011-12, Kris asked me a favor. “Please see a counselor,” she said. I did, and it helped. My therapist gave me advice for coping with depression and anxiety, plus she diagnosed me with ADD. For a few years, I was able to manage my symptoms.

Last year, though, things got bad. March and April and May were a struggle. In June, I published an article here about my ongoing battle with depression. During the summer, my mental health improved, however, and I forgot about how hard the spring had been.

A Sneaky Little, Sticky Bitch

In February of this year, my anxiety returned. The depression followed soon after. When my heart-attack scare in mid-March turned up no physical issues (other than high blood pressure), my doctor suggested that the problem was anxiety. She asked me to start seeing a therapist again. So, I did.

Since early May, I've been attending talk therapy once a week. We're exploring why I feel so anxious, and how using alcohol to cope with anxiety is a “maladaptive behavior”. We're exploring other ways to make things work.

The trouble? When I don't drink in the afternoon, I get more anxious.

The frustrating thing is that the depression and anxiety lead me to act like a completely different person.

For instance, I love people. I love spending time with people. Social interaction energizes me. Right now, though? I hate it. I don't want to deal with anyone in any capacity. I don't want to spend time with friends. I don't want to be in crowds. (I make an exception for Portland Timbers games.) I don't even want to go to the grocery store.

Here are some ways this manifests itself:

Today, I had a lunch appointment with a colleague and friend. Karl is a great guy and I enjoy spending time with him. Normally. Today, though, all I could think about were the reasons I might be able to cancel.

Yesterday, I taped a TV interview with a local station. I wanted to cancel that too. Afterward, I ought to have driven out to the family box factory. But I didn't. I didn't want to spend time with my brother and cousin.

This Sunday evening, there's another Portland Timbers game. Kim can't go with me, so I need to find somebody else to join me. I have zero desire to do so. I may end up selling the tickets and skipping the game because of my anxiety.

My medical doctor has prescribed propranolol to simultaneously deal with my high blood pressure and my anxiety. While it seems to be helping the former, it's not helping the latter. (According to wikipedia, it's really only useful for performance anxiety.)

Meanwhile, the depression is even worse. If you look at the symptoms of depression, I'm exhibiting every single one. Some of my symptoms are severe.

Fatigue? Have it.

Insomnia? You bet.

Feelings of guilt and worthlessness? Oh boy.

Irritability? Yes, and it's so not me. I'm not an irritable guy — but I am lately.

Loss of interest in things once pleasurable? Absolutely, and it's SO FRUSTRATING. Nothing appeals to me. I'm numb.

Trouble concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions? You have no idea. Everything is a chore.

The latter is especially difficult to deal with. When Karl asked where to meet for lunch today, I couldn't decide. Why not? That's so simple! Last night, Kim wanted me to make dinner. But I didn't because I couldn't decide what to fix. That's ridiculous!

A Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

In fact, yesterday was miserable. It might have been the worst day of my entire life.

My head was a mess of negative thoughts and emotions, all of them swirling and swirling and swirling in a never-ending dark cloud of despair. I couldn't focus on anything. I did tape the TV interview (the first segment went very well, but the second bordered on incoherent) but that's the only productive thing I did all day.

On the drive home, I bought — and then consumed — a big bowl of clam chowder, a big bag of potato chips, and an entire package of chocolate chip cookies. Then I sat in the hot tub and played a videogame for five hours. (At least I didn't drink alcohol!)

When Kim came home, she asked, “What's for dinner?” I admitted that I hadn't made dinner — but I didn't tell her how messed up my head had been all day. (She knows I'm struggling but she doesn't know how badly.) While she changed out of her scrubs, I fried some frozen potstickers.

Naturally, all of this makes me feel even more guilty and worthless and depressed. It's a vicious cycle.

I'm sure you can see how this would translate in an inability to get work done, both here at Get Rich Slowly and in my real life.

It's a problem.

What's the solution to the problem? I'm not sure. There must be one. But I don't know what it is. Drink every afternoon? That's what I've been doing, and it works. But, as my therapist says, it's a maladaptive behavior. I think we all know where that road leads.

My therapist is patient. She keeps giving me homework assignments…and I keep avoiding them. Exercise! Meditate! Set goals! These all sound awesome. They're all things I know I like to do. But they also sound like tremendous effort, so I don't do them.

Bringing Gratitude

Instead of canceling my lunch appointment with Karl today, I went. I'm glad I did.

I've known Karl for almost a decade. He's one of the most uplifting, supportive people I've ever met. I love that his work is centered on positivity. He runs a site called Bring Gratitude and he published a book by the same name. (Six months ago, he shared a guest article here at Get Rich Slowly about practicing gratitude with a daily journal.)

As we sat down for lunch, I told Karl point blank about the issues I'm going through.

“I can totally relate,” he said, and he shared some of his own past struggles.

“You know,” I said, “my therapist has been urging me to try meditation. But I don't know how to start.”

Karl nodded. “I meditate. I meditated just this morning. But it can be tough to get going. You have so many thoughts racing through your head. Here's one thing that might work, though. Give yourself one minute. Only a minute. For that minute, meditate on all of the things that you're thankful for.”

“I like that idea,” I said. “I like it a lot. Normally, I'm a grateful guy. I'm a lucky man, and I know it. Usually. Lately, though, I've forgotten how awesome life is. Meditating on the things I'm grateful for would be a great way to remind me of what I've got.”

Thank You

On my drive home, I put Karl's idea into practice. I took back roads. As I drove slowly through the countryside, I thought about all of the things that I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for Kim. She's a not just a wonderful partner in life, but she's a wonderful person. She's a good soul.

I'm thankful for my dog. Tahlequah is a handful (a pawful?), and I do get frustrated with her. But I'm also grateful to have such an enthusiastic hound dog in my life.

I'm thankful for my health. I haven't taken care of myself much lately, but that's on me. Generally speaking, my body is in fine shape. And with a little work, it could be in great shape once again.

I'm grateful for music. I don't mention it much, but music brings great joy to my life. I love music of all sorts. Taylor Swift, yes, but also U2 and Mozart and Styx and ABBA and Public Enemy.

I'm thankful for Portland. I love the green of it. I love its quirky die-hard (sometimes absurd) liberalism. I love the food scene and the Timbers and the passion for books. Speaking of which…

I'm grateful for words. Books bring me joy. So does writing. I've managed to make a living from my words, and I hope to continue doing so in the future.

I'm grateful for life.

Here at home, I had a call with my business partner, Tom. We spent two hours talking about behind-the-scenes details here at Get Rich Slowly. We made plans for the future. But we also took a lot of time to talk about nothing.

It was awesome. It was just what I needed.

When I got off the call, the dog wanted to play. She looked up with puppy-dog eyes and made her little whine that means, “Dad, throw the ball for me.” We went outside into the sunshine and I threw the ball for her. Then, I got down on my knees and wrestled with her. She loves when I wrestle with her.

“I really do have a good life,” I thought after the dog and I were done chomping on each other. I went into the kitchen to put away the clean dishes. “I'm thankful for all of it.”

You know what? I'm thankful for Get Rich Slowly too. And for you, the readers. This site has been a huge blessing in my life — and I'm not one to talk much about blessings. I've put a lot into GRS, it's true, but I've gotten so much more out of it. I've gotten so much from you folks.

So, thank you. I mean it. Thank you for reading. Thank you for contributing. Thank you for everything.

Few and Far Between

As Karl and I chatted at lunch today, I caught a Natalie Merchant song playing on the restaurant's radio. At first I thought it was “Wonder”, but then I recognized it as “Few and Far Between”.

“How fitting,” I thought. Some of the lyrics:

“‘Til you make your peace with yesterday, you'll never build a future. I swear by what I say: Whatever penance you do, decide what it's worth to you, and then respect it. However long it will take to weather your mistakes? Why not accept it?”

So, that's what has been going on in my life lately. It's been a struggle. But I can see a light at the end of the tunnel. And I can see some money articles at the end of the keyboard. (Thank goodness, right?)

What's been going on with you?

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The post Depression and me appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/depression-and-me/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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andrewdburton · 5 years

Text

Depression and me

Long-time readers are aware that I've struggled with depression for most of my life.

Interesting note: It was after the second panic attack that my doctor strongly encouraged me to start drinking red wine. For real. Before that, I was a teetotaler.

A Sneaky Little, Sticky Bitch

The trouble? When I don't drink in the afternoon, I get more anxious.

The frustrating thing is that the depression and anxiety lead me to act like a completely different person.

Here are some ways this manifests itself:

Meanwhile, the depression is even worse. If you look at the symptoms of depression, I'm exhibiting every single one. Some of my symptoms are severe.

Fatigue? Have it.

Insomnia? You bet.

Feelings of guilt and worthlessness? Oh boy.

Irritability? Yes, and it's so not me. I'm not an irritable guy — but I am lately.

Loss of interest in things once pleasurable? Absolutely, and it's SO FRUSTRATING. Nothing appeals to me. I'm numb.

Trouble concentrating, remembering details, and making decisions? You have no idea. Everything is a chore.

A Horrible, Terrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

In fact, yesterday was miserable. It might have been the worst day of my entire life.

Naturally, all of this makes me feel even more guilty and worthless and depressed. It's a vicious cycle.

I'm sure you can see how this would translate in an inability to get work done, both here at Get Rich Slowly and in my real life.

It's a problem.

Bringing Gratitude

Instead of canceling my lunch appointment with Karl today, I went. I'm glad I did.

As we sat down for lunch, I told Karl point blank about the issues I'm going through.

“I can totally relate,” he said, and he shared some of his own past struggles.

“You know,” I said, “my therapist has been urging me to try meditation. But I don't know how to start.”

Thank You

On my drive home, I put Karl's idea into practice. I took back roads. As I drove slowly through the countryside, I thought about all of the things that I'm thankful for.

I'm thankful for Kim. She's a not just a wonderful partner in life, but she's a wonderful person. She's a good soul.

I'm thankful for my dog. Tahlequah is a handful (a pawful?), and I do get frustrated with her. But I'm also grateful to have such an enthusiastic hound dog in my life.

I'm thankful for my health. I haven't taken care of myself much lately, but that's on me. Generally speaking, my body is in fine shape. And with a little work, it could be in great shape once again.

I'm grateful for music. I don't mention it much, but music brings great joy to my life. I love music of all sorts. Taylor Swift, yes, but also U2 and Mozart and Styx and ABBA and Public Enemy.

I'm thankful for Portland. I love the green of it. I love its quirky die-hard (sometimes absurd) liberalism. I love the food scene and the Timbers and the passion for books. Speaking of which…

I'm grateful for words. Books bring me joy. So does writing. I've managed to make a living from my words, and I hope to continue doing so in the future.

I'm grateful for life.

It was awesome. It was just what I needed.

“I really do have a good life,” I thought after the dog and I were done chomping on each other. I went into the kitchen to put away the clean dishes. “I'm thankful for all of it.”

So, thank you. I mean it. Thank you for reading. Thank you for contributing. Thank you for everything.

Few and Far Between

“How fitting,” I thought. Some of the lyrics:

What's been going on with you?

youtube

The post Depression and me appeared first on Get Rich Slowly.

from Finance https://www.getrichslowly.org/depression-and-me/ via http://www.rssmix.com/

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