It pans out almost like a cliched, run-of-the-mill, sappy tale with a happy ending, especially when I write and share it on the internet. Almost a decade ago, I had my first brush with the real-life infamous villain called “Depression.” I couldn’t cognize its presence initially and when I began to, it started scraping and spooking me in wacky ways every new time. It swiftly pervaded most spheres of my life, quite similarly to a virus, caused havoc and did damage – all without me even registering it. Over the years, our encounters became more frequent and our contests got so intense to the point where now when it didn’t visit me for a while, I’d start missing it!? Sounds like a case of Stockholm Syndrome, and perhaps it was. Anyway, then the plot took a turn, and there came the hero of the saga- the green-and-white-coloured pills, the prince charming on a horse, and a deep, spiritual healing from the heavens- all one after the other, sweeping me off my feet, pumping life and ecstasy into me. My story has a happy ending and I can hardly believe it. For someone who was a reclusive, faithless pessimist about her life circumstances, I surely saw somewhat of a miracle when I found happiness after about eight long years.
The scenery brings a surreal comfort, a nostalgia whose origins seems familiar yet unknown, like estranged towns, houses or people. There is a certain power that the Lynchian fieldwork holds: it captivates you, it comforts you and then discomforts you until you learn to switch between the two.