Consider all the leaders you trust failing you.  The people you care about forgetting you.  The memories that give you strength turning out to be fabrications invented to protect you from the truth.

Say you are depressed and disillusioned at the way things are going?

What if the maxims you've chosen to live by prove false?  The relationships that support you end.  Your secret island of inspiration where you go as a last resort dries up and disappears.

How depressing is it?

Once you were good company, the life of the party, but as you aged you became cynical like the rest--even though you never admitted it.  One day you simply woke up and found you couldn't cry any more for yourself or anybody else.  All the love and idealism you had is all used up.  You can't help it if your breath became sour and the mouthwash they make these days isn't strong enough.

Can you get any more depressed do you think?  Is it time for meds, or aren't the meds working any more?

Television is a bore.  Obama turned out to be a traitor.  Music, theatre, reading, and poetry, which you never liked in the first place has nothing to offer you any more.  You used to make time for it, but that's when you were younger--a mere child--now other activities are more important.  You did your best.

Eating chocolate, fruit, and ice cream no longer appeases you.  The scent of flowers makes you nauseous.  You resent anyone who reminds you of it.  You are certain you won't be able to find a decent nursing home for your mother and when your time comes things will be worse. 

How bad do you think it has gotten?

Does the difference between depression, disillusionment, and madness confuse you?

While complaining how ugly the world is and everybody in it the wart on your nose starts to grow uncontrollably and you don't have insurance, or if you have insurance the bastards won't pay.  You rupture a vein in your good eye laughing at the insanity.  Nobody is delivering for you.  After all, you gave absolutely everything you could and these miserable curs still aren't doing it the right way.

We were better off in the days when you died of a hangnail.  At least their weren't any false expectations.  When they didn't know a virus from a sit com.  When men were men and women got on top but nobody ever told.  There are too many damn secrets.  It's too complex.  The frogs call it absurd, but you know about them frogs.  Your legislator threw your donations on the men's room floor.

Depression is no god damned fun, I know.  The world has become a place where beauty doesn't exist.  The room you live in keeps getting smaller and nobody can fix it.  As you look back, you realize it began the day you knew best and didn't need to share anybody else's happiness.

Now you have talked yourself into a depression you can't slough off.  It isn't your fault.  You haven't joined forces with the enemy.  No sir.  No mam.  The only image in your mind when you wake up is your brain suspended in a vat of pink jelly.  It's not as bad as waterboarding and at least you only did it to yourself.  You have nothing else to take responsibility for.  Your god, no fool, took a hike a long time ago--you were too logical for her anyway. 

You came to see the world and yourself as empty, my darling, and said no to everything.  Only ideology matters.  One's place on the spectrum.  You are among those who know for sure Ben Sen is nuts.  You are not someone who can be disillusioned easily--are you--a toy they can play with?  They can't get away with it.  You won't let them. When will "they" learn their fucking lesson?

You have reached the point of no return and don't want to hear any more excuses.  The time for compromise is over.  Politics is just too real.   

You Were Depressed, I Said This to Cheer You Up.