Depressed

I always thought Brand's essence of chicken was quite possibly the most vile tasting of all drinkable things. Very possibly worse than drinking urine.

But I'm immensely depressed this week & have caught myself gulping down bottle after bottle of this repulsive liquid like soup. Funny how being depressed can make your tastebuds torture itself with essence of chicken.

Want to hear a morbid story?

No. Of course you don't. But I have to tell it anyway because that's what depressed people do on their blogs.

Well, once upon a time there lived a hard disk - named Danny. He is so named because of a mondo huge glow in the dark T-Rex skeleton sticker pasted onto him that has long fell off.
Danny was black, dull and unimpressive in appearance, as are most hard-disks. But he was a hardworking, diligent being with a good sense of humour despite having a shakey USB connection port which he was born with. So I don't blame him.

He never gave me any serious trouble & I never had to discipline the chap by brutally reformatting his average but cheerful brain-chips.

Until today.

Danny died on me today.

I suddenly feel that I cannot write about the tragic and infuriating circumstances concerning his death & my great discomfort even though I set out on this blog entry to do so.

Abrupt end to post. *angst and gloom*