My wife and I are both exhausted. It's cold, rainy, cloudy outside, and the trees are skeletons. The road makes that "wooshing" wet sound whenever cars go by and it sprays cold whatever everywhere. There's no Christmas coming soon, no New Year, we're just in the doldrums of winter. The hallways at her college probably sound hollow and are a bit darker, even with lights - like an empty hospital in an X-Files episode.
I began taking anti-depressants when I was fourteen. At the time my mother's brother was in the midst of an unnaturally colored descent into something like a quiet madness which would, by the time I was seventeen, lead him to take his own life. My father's mother suffered from unspecified mental illness which has only recently been revealed as schizophrenia. My parents understandably sought relief for me rather than watch their son, a sensitive, smart, and oft-bullied young man, push himself further toward desperation.
