Jot this down.

I want to write about time. About how we reference it in hope, in wonder. Time changes things. Time heals all wounds. We never give ourselves enough credit, do we? Whether it's religion or some other addiction, we forget our ability to pull ourselves up out of our puddles of shit and tears and do something about it. I want to write about that: About the intensity with which we experience the present and the pity with which we remember ourselves, before. If you experience it enough times eventually depression becomes a sort of reminder that it gets better.