The kitchen was well stocked, and I cooked us the first of what we hoped would be many meals in the peace and calm of our new-found bolt-hole. The larder had been stocked well, and we put any thoughts of cannibalism from our minds.
Neon lights bled in to the rain, as the darkness cut past the artificial stone edifices. The first foot felt the water splash on its carapace, and knew that it was the first dawn.
I have spent a long time wrestling with depression and social anxiety. My way through is not everyone else’s. Let me take you through it, as a form of an example…
I am not going to sit here in my ivory tower of intellectual detachment and tell people to “get over it”. Do not get over it. You will never get over it.