After my week in New York with Annie, I had a lot on my mind when I came home. Foremost were the conversations we’d had about mental health – my own, in particular. See, Annie’s been medicated a long time, and I couldn’t help but notice, spending so much time with her, how quickly she bounces back from things – especially in comparison with myself, whose day (or even week) can be derailed by the most minor of disappointments.
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Advice for the Average Depressed Millennial
In Berlin’s infuriating glitterscape I know three entire people who have written their own manifestos. Three: Annie, Emily, Dave. I like that; set down on wax who you are, what you are for, how you justify your existence, and what specific pains and lessons the earth has wrought upon you to fashion you into the sentient rib-eye steak you are today. The attempted manifestation of the blueprint of an individual’s soul; after being inspired by my friends, here is my own, about a subject very close to my heart; the sickness of my generation.
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