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y depression is a swamp, and this is the swamp monster who lives inside it. He’s the one that drags me back down into the icky oozy depths and holds me under until I can’t see a way out of there.
He trails mud and sludge with him wherever he goes, and even if he isn’t in the swamp he is out there looking for me, leaving his trail all over my life. The worst part about the swamp is that you forget how bad it is until you’re back in there, and then you can’t ever remember being outside of it.
Even once you finally manage to fight off the swamp monster and climb back out of there you’re covered in mud and gunk and swamp juice too, and it takes a long time for that to leave you.