Uh oh. Here it comes......5-4-3-2-1.....
Abigail: Well hello there annual bout of Christmas depression. You must have missed me, you're coming on strong this year.
Annual Xmas Depression: Well dear, I noticed that last night, after you sucked back a few beers, you were well on your way anyways. Just thought I'd meet you at the half point.
Abigail: Thank you, I guess.
Annual Xmas Depression: It usually takes you a few days to get here, so I thought since you had some days off and nothing to do anyway, I'd just help you get the trip over with already.
Abigail: You know, there really isn't any reason for you to be here. I'm ok. Really.
Annual Xmas Depression: Oh, you lie. Like fucking dog, you lie.
Abigail:No, there isn't anything major going on. Nobody died,the weather's nice, I'm not broke and everyone around me seems to be happy and scrappy.
Annual Xmas Depression:Oh, but you feel like shit anyways. Come on, I know you better than anyone. You are lonely. You are pissed off. You are worried about money and your job and being left out now that your friends are making new friends, and you're laid up at home because of that damn leg, and this new feeling that you should be less of a drunk, and more of a responsible adult....that one's driving you crazy.
Abigail:Well, maybe a little bit. But at least I know that these are all silly little superficial problems. Everything will work out in the end. I'm just in a bit of a slump, because I'm bored, and am not sure quite what to do with myself. Sure I'm lonely..but everyone is just busy. I'd be busy too, if I could go to work.
Annual Xmas Depression:Uh huh.
Abigail:You're just trying to get me all worked up over nothing. Leave me the hell alone.
Annual Xmas Depression: You're a fiesty one this year. And no, I will not leave you the hell alone. This year, I've got some special ammunition up my sleeve.
Abigail:And that would be.....???
Annual Xmas Depression:You were used to being alone. Now you aren't. You've got a boyfriend, you shouldn't be feeling lonely. Sorry chicky, but I've got ya, no matter what you're trying to tell me. When I'm through with you, you are going to be so tired of over-analyzing every little thing in your love life, you're not going to be able to get out of bed.
Abigail: You're an asshole.
Annual Xmas Depression: Oooh, I hit a soft spot there. Why don't you just lay down in bed, put on that awful Morrissey album and cry out your eyes.
Abigail:I've got somewhere to be in an hour, and I'll be damned if I'm going out with my swollen 'crying face' on. Think I'd rather just have a beer, and listen to something other than Morrissey. Who I love, by the way.
Annual Xmas Depression: Have it your way then. And hey, have more than one beer, and I'll talk to you later on tonight, when it gets you so down, you'll want to kill yourself.
Abigail:As I said earlier, you're an asshole.
Annual Xmas Depression:You know I'm right though. So go to the fridge, grab another drink, and like I said, we'll talk later.
Abigail: Whatever you say, brain. Whatever you say. Go fuck yourself.
Annual Xmas Depression: Cheers!