Open Forum on Depression
The dark night of the soul. A lonely, private Hell. My heart is empty. All the fountains that should run with longing are dried up in me. I could weep by the hour like a child, and yet I knew not what I wept for. …
The dark night of the soul. A lonely, private Hell. My heart is empty. All the fountains that should run with longing are dried up in me. I could weep by the hour like a child, and yet I knew not what I wept for. …