An acquaintance hanged himself last week.  His funeral was on the weekend.  I barely knew him, we spoke only occasionally when I visited his place of work for professional purposes. He struck me as a very cheerful and good-humoured chap. I had no idea he suffered from depression.  That sucks.


About Uisce úr

Though I am old with wandering Through hollow lands and hilly lands, I will find out where she has gone, And kiss her lips and take her hands; And walk among long dappled grass, And pluck till time and times are done, The silver apples of the moon, The golden apples of the sun.
This entry was posted in Death, Depression, Life, don't talk to me about life! and tagged , , . Bookmark the permalink.

2 Responses to Depression

  1. Alan says:

    ‘I was much too far out all my life
    And not waving but drowning.’


  2. dayvebutler says:

    Did you read the atricle in The PhilosphersMail on Philip Hoffman. Poignant.


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