Attack of the Killer D

Beyef came out with the perfectest line I have ever come across with--with regards to my being depressed and its bizarre association with the downpour--as he tried to clear out the layers of cobwebs that clogged my tubes: Why can't we all be frogs and be happy when it rains?

I had to apologize for not making sense and--a run-through the conversation later made me realize--for sounding "nyah-nyah" while Fleetwood Mac was persuading me to understand that the poetry in Landslide is not pain, no matter how bleak it may seem.

I blame it on this weird feeling that makes the body feel like an inflatable void that not even the immensity of the release can stop the air from filling in. To outpour is so tiring but keeping the air inside is impossible as it is almost endless. But I will give it to Beyef. He made a good job in the cleaning department, picking up even the spider poops with his bare hands.

It has been a long time since I had a bout with it. It felt new to me but at the same time, it felt like some old friends that I left but remained real. Contrary to what I have been thinking, perhaps it never left me at all--just there lurking, awaiting for the best timing to launch an offensive.

This one knows me more than my closest friends. This one sees my vulnerabilities. Surely, this one kills.