Depression ist nicht die Krankheit, sondern ein Symptom. Die Krankheit ist unser westlicher Lebensstil, die Krankheit ist unsere Gesellschaft. Und wir werden alle damit geboren…
I remember how damp the basement apartment felt. Part of me was worried the harsh Ontario winter might even freeze the moisture in the air.
I had decided that I wanted to die, but freezing to death wasn’t how I would do it.
Funny time to be picky, now that I think about it, but it wasn’t the only thing I was being fussy about.
This was the end of my life, after all, and it had become about the finer details for me. Tying up the loose ends.
I had made peace with anyone that I felt I had parted with on less than favourable terms in the past. I said my apologies, my goodbyes, and every last “I love you”.
I made sure I had two notes. One note detailed where I wanted all my things to go once I had left. I reflected even…
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