Whenever I enter my little bubble, I look so sad. She would think I was sulking. “You’re always so sad!” she would yell. “Be happier! You need to lighten up sometimes! Your depression is contagious!” I would wake up and tell her I’m fine. “No, you’re not! You’re killing yourself but you don’t believe in suicide!” she would say. I don’t get how she thinks that. But she does. Some times I just don’t understand. And on top of all this crap, I killed my hamster. My only pet ever. He’s been alive for two and a half years. A year over normal life span.