These days it’s been a premonition, a dread creeping in that things aren’t going to be okay. Not depression, no, but something like it. Fear of depression. I thought that when my depression went into remission two months ago I’d be free to think my own thoughts again. I was wrong. Because depression cuts deep grooves in the mind and the mind plays itself out over those grooves, being the easiest of all options, I’m having depressive thoughts even though I don’t feel depressed. The mind is nothing if not efficient. So I’ve become excellent at worrying a problem into something larger than it needs to be, excellent at exacerbating my problems by thinking about them so frequently and with such self-hatred at the core of each of these thoughts. Where this ends, I have no idea. I thought I was out of the woods, but they’re still all around me and might be forever.