Depression.
"How come you are not depressed, bro?"
Well, you see—
I have headaches, insomnia, low blood sugar,
I cry over women not talking to me,
I'm easily misunderstood,
they don't like my beard,
nobody talks—
even if someone talks, for them I'm a vexatious babbler.
If I don't masturbate, I get thoughts to kill a couple,
and even if I do, all of my energy is sucked.
I drink, I cry over a bitch,
I don't have enough time to do all the works which I'm supposed to do,
and moreover, my pelvic girdle and coccyx are hurting more than ever,
and my belly is getting big and big,
can't breathe properly, my neck hurts—
and I have got all of these,
and even more is that my homeopathic doctor stresses me over her variety of round white pills—
a count of 4 to 5 to be taken exactly 40 minutes after eating—
and she doesn't want me to drink any water for 30 minutes after taking those hard white pills,
and it causes me more stress,
and that's the reason exactly I don't have time for depression.
But technically, all of these sound like depression.
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