I told myself: 'Get over yourself. Stop snivelling. Stop whining...' - Telegraph

I told myself: 'Get over yourself. Stop snivelling. Stop whining...' - Telegraph: "Here is another fragment from that lost time.
A friend telephones to ask how I am. The sun is shining. The sky is a merciless blue. It is only 11 in the morning but I have been awake since 3.20. Now I am back in bed but only because I can think of nowhere else to go. I say that I am feeling low. Low is the depressive's euphemism for despair, for the enveloping blackness at the bottom of the pit.
She says: "How can you be depressed on a day like this?" I want to say: "If I had flu, would you ask me how I could be sick on a day like this?" I say nothing. She means well. There are no words to explain my despair, the depth of my grief.
I cannot explain it myself."



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