A young friend of mine just committed suicide. I felt I hadn’t done enough to help him. Made me depressed. I’m still depressed. But that’s what killed my young friend–that and, I suspect, the vicious circle of heavy self medication. I do suffer from intermittent bouts of depression. Sometimes it’s quite grim. Depression is like the barbarian hordes attacking the more civilized empire, Rome if you like. One drives the attackers back. The dark hordes recede for a time. But they never give up completely. They chew away at the outer walls, siege after siege, before retreating into their hills. One can reduce their force through an offense, but it’s like entropy, it’s like “rust never sleeps”, it never completely gives up. And as one gets older, and seems more vulnerable–”Rome’s walls are crumbling!”–the hordes get more allies. Aging and ageism, the deaths of friends, physical limitations, all ally with the dark army of depression. But I will never surrender. Once more unto the breach, dear friends!