Well, here we go again. That time of year where the air gets colder, the days get shorter, and my mind starts waging war on me. Seasonal depression — that uninvited guest that never fails to show up no matter how much I try to lock the damn door. And wouldn’t you know it, just when I thought I had my peace in check, someone had to come along and hit a nerve. One little trigger, and suddenly all those memories I thought I buried deep came flooding back like a busted dam. I swear, it’s like Pandora’s box flew open and dumped every hurt, every heartbreak, and every ugly scar right at my feet. But you know what’s different this time? I’ve got the right kind of people in my corner now. See, in the past, folks loved to play “therapist” — they’d make me open up, spill every dark, painful piece of my past, and then when things got too real, they’d run off and leave me standing in the ashes of my own mess. Like they poured gasoline on my pain and lit a match just to watch it burn. Not this time...
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