My little thoughts, my little pain, but they are mine nonetheless, and no one really knows about them, that I have them. And I wish some of them knew, I wish she knew--the heaviness; but it is not conventional, not my depression, but that they/she take(s) part in the life of a depressed person. The trouble is too much and it is simply a responsibility. It hurts, it simply hurts, and I know why, very well.