Sometimes I wonder if depression, mood-disorders and the like aren’t a product of some aberrant neuron, but instead live inside the senses. Like my creator set the Gain controls in my ears too high; and with eyes permanently switched to Ghost Recon Threat Level. My tongue too readily recalls the taste of sweet things, which I constantly seek to replicate.

Maybe our body is the House of Spirits, and some of us are haunted too easily.