Welcome to My Well

I say: "I live in a well".

You say: "You live in a well, what?"

I say: "Not a, well, what. A WELL! A deep, dark, dank, hole in the friggin earth. GEEZZ. I'm trying to tell you that I live in depression most of the time and I HATE, HATE, HATE it".

You say:  "Really, dearie, what have you got to be depressed about. It's a beautiful day, you have clothes on your back, food to spare, even a little chocolate in the pantry. None of your children are in prison and whom most of the time don't hate you, you have a car that runs and has gasoline in it and you have an appointment for a massage later in the week. What in the world do you have to be depressed about?"

I say: "You're right. I don't know what's wrong with me. I guess I just friggin woke up this morning and said, 'Dear God, Could you please, please, please grant me just one or two more days of feeling like crap'? And, who knew that finally, a prayer would be answered. Don't you know anything about REAL depression, the kind that even though your life seems perfect, you still want to lie in the middle of the road and pretend you are a speed bump"?

You say: "Oh, stop with the 'Oh poor me' garbage. You don't know anything when it comes to being down. I'll tell you right now, I've got problems you can't even imagine. In fact, I've been meaning to tell you about BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH, BLAH...."

I say: "How on earth do you think that unloading your woes on me is the key to unlocking my deep and apparently misplaced happiness"?

You say: "Oh, I get it. It's all about you. Well, little Miss The World Hates Me, I'll tell you what you need....You need... uhhh, you need.....Prozac! I have a friend who takes Prozac and she tells me her life is exceptional now, except she can't have an orgasm and she's at high risk for, oh, I don't know, lots of stuff, but she doesn't care because she's having so much fun except for the orgasm part. She spends alot of her time shopping now...AT...THE...MALL where before she just sat and shopped off of QVC or something like that, whatever you get on cable, but now, she just hops in her little car and off to the mall she goes, happy as a little lark. I can call her if you want and and find out who her supplier, I mean, who her doctor is. What do you say?"

I say: "You are too kind, but I already take antidepressants and believe it or not, I do feel better than I did before I took them but I was hoping for better than this. So, now you know. Not only am I a former probationer, I am also a druggie. "

You say: "Well, no wonder you are depressed. I bet you haven't had an orgasm in a long time either. Poor, baby. I have a friend who just bought the most amazing viberator, or so she says, from Brookstone, you know the little place in the mall where they sell funky stuff at Christmas"?

I say: "Really? You have a friend? How on earth did you manage that....no, wait, I think I'd rather shoot myself  than hear about it".

You say: "Hello.....Hello.....Are you still there? Guess not. Oh my, look at the time, my story is just about to start".