Not long ago, I realized I want to be a writer. Then I spiraled into a depression. Not a real depression, just a poetic one. One morning, I looked in the mirror and noticed that I had grown a beard. And that my eyes didn’t look the same.
But it occurred to me that since I’m not famous yet, my going into a depression would not draw the kind of attention it should. So I decided to hold off on being depressed.
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