An essay about no one close to me wanting to read what I write, or even trying to.

One of the reasons I firmly believe that I struggle with chronic depression, rather than a mild or moderate condition or SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder), is how my brain spotlights triggers. I never notice or descry an emotional response and simply catechize it before categorizing it for my records. I baste in it, obsess over the rudiments of how…