Conversations With Denial


*The part of Denial is played by my cat LiLi


LiLi: What are that? It tickles.
Me: You lost a whisker.
LiLi: That’s very interesting, but that’s not mine.
Me: It is yours. I’m saving it. Usually you drop your one white whisker so I never find it. You always look odd until it grows back again.
LiLi: No, that’s not mine.
Me: Do you see any other cats in this room?
LiLi: I have all my parts!
Me: Uh. Remember that time I took you to work with me at the veterinary hospital and you fell asleep and when you woke up your belly was shaved and you were sore for a few days?
LiLi: Eh, vaguely.
Me: Yeah, well. We took out some of your parts.
LiLi: *yawns* Clearly, you do not fear me adequately. Fortunately for you, clawing your face off does not fit into my schedule.
Me: I just trimmed your nails!
LiLi: You just make things up all the time. *sigh* I nap now.


Conversations With Depression (But, there are cute kitties)



Me: Uh oh. Didn’t see you come in.

Depression: Yup! I’m sneaky that way.

Me: But, the sun is out!

Depression: And your point? 

Me: There are really cute kittens!

Depression: I am pretty much immune to kittens, baby chicks and daffodils. You’re going to have to try harder.

Me: But it’s hard to make any kind of effort, ’cause I’m depressed now.

Depression: Gotcha!

Later that afternoon……..

Me: (glances out corner of eye) Oh, you still there? 

Depression: Yup!

Me: Do I detect a smirk? 

Depression: Well, I do take a certain amount of satisfaction in my job.

Me: (muttering) Asshat!

Depression: What was that? 

Me: (sigh) Nothing. I’m going to make that coffee I thought about making 3 hours ago.

Depression: No, you’re not.

Me: Fine then. I’ll just take a nice warm shower. 

Depression: No. That’ll take too much energy. 

Me: Well, I played with the kitty. That was fun. I could do it again.

Depression: The kitty is sleeping. Why don’t you call someone? People said you could call them! 

Me: I don’t want to bother anybody.

Depression: (laughing) Oh man, this is too easy!

Me: Shut your pie hole, Depression! Can’t you see I’m trying to grieve here? Is this the kind of crap you pulled on my brother? I wish he’d just pounded your ass! Now I’m mad!

Depression: Are you? 

Me: What? 

Depression: Mad? 

Me: Yes. No. I’m too depressed. (sigh) Maybe I should eat something now.

Depression: Nice try, but no.

Me: I could read a book.

Depression: Good luck concentrating. (pointing at book on nightstand) You’re still on chapter two of THAT easy read. It’s been what? A week now? 

Depression: Hey, I know. Why don’t you call your ex, the one you’re terminally sweet on, but who needs to just be friends right now, because; stuff? He always makes you feel better anyway. Oh wait, (smirking) he’s busy on Sundays. 

Me: (making series of obscene gesture at Depression which totally wears me out and I crumple) Maybe I will call someone! I want company! 

Depression: Do you?

Me: Yeah! No. Wait. I don’t know. I think, I want to be alone. 

Depression: Maybe you should just go to bed.

Me: I’m already in bed. I’ve been here all day!

Depression: Exactly!

Me: (sniffles)

Depression: Oh, I’m good.

More naps, sobs and social networking posts of despair and a few hours later……

Depression: Stop it.

Me: Stop what?

Depression: Stop writing down our conversations and posting them on the internet! 

Me: Why, Depression? Because you don’t want me to do anything? You just want me to stay curled up here in my pajamas, uncaffeinated, sort of hungry, sort of lonely, sort of not lonely and unwashed? 

Depression: Well yes. But that’s not the point.

Me: (glaring) And the point would be?

Depression: You’re embarrassing yourself. Do you really want people to know how depressed you are? It’s shameful!

Me: Honey, that ship sailed a long time ago. And no, I don’t care. I’m not ashamed of myself! I’m an open book. This is how I roll.

Depression: People will think you’re crazy talking to an emotional construct. After all, I could be considered a form of mental illness.

Me: (yawning. I continue typing) Whatever.I’m depressed. Why should I care what people think of me? Besides, everybody gets depressed sometimes.

Depression: Okay. Okay. What if I ease up and let you eat something?

Me: I don’t need your permission. I ate a muffin, a muffin with copious amounts of butter a few hours ago, remember? 

Depression: Dude! You are making me look bad, ok? People are supposed to be paralyzed by the site of me. I’m a big, scary, soul crushing mood inhibitor! Frankly, you are making me sound kind of harmless.

Me: Aw. That sounds depressing! Bet you’re not feeling like doing much right now either, are you Depression?

Depression: Come to think of it, I’m feeling a little peckish.

Me: You do that. And by that, I mean nothing. Just go be a little lump, will you?  I’m going to eat something and sit in the hot tub maybe.

Depression: Gaaah!