Depression is real and it is on every face you look at, starting with your own.

Like a fishing hook through my leg, pression has made its grasp on me again, and it hasn’t let go all day, never relenting. At first you are like a floating survivor of a boat accident at sea, next minute, you are being pulled down with such force and velocity you are left to wonder if you will drown first, or if your head will explode from the pressure. All the while, your body convulses, but at irreducible times and infrequently.