Can I borrow a cup of anger?
That Depression, she is not very kind. She turns my face to stone, makes me hide under the covers in my dark room. She has sapped all of my energy. Worst of all, she has gutted me of my anger and indignation.
How can I cope without them? They are what was holding up my spine, the legs of my forward momentum. Anger with my body, indignation with life's rank unfairness: they gave me force. Even the force of negativitiy has a price beyond rubies when you have nothing but sadness and inertia, and quiver like gray Jello.
Perhaps she will allow a few electric anger surges to penetrate the wobbly gloom in a day or two. Please, Ms. D. Please.