All the Neil Hannon in the World Can't...

I am a less nice person than I used to be. I felt this a couple of weeks ago - or it might be better to say I recognised that a good deal of my niceness had gone a couple of weeks ago. I have less interest in and patience with other people's sorrows, or even just their lives; I have less interest in the world around me, and in living my life in an interesting way; I have less interest in talking to other people. I see these things about myself, and I don't like it.

I know in part exactly why this is. I know I'm much angrier than I was even a month ago: I've always been an angry person, but now I can feel that anger nearly coming out, and I can feel myself making an effort to control it. And, of course, everything I've described in the paragraph above is a symptom of depression, and of course I am depressed. Depressed, and angry, and both of these things I'm unable to resolve for myself rationally because they are both justified and mystified. I'm sure this will pass - time heals all wounds; it really does, actually. But I can feel myself being unkind and thoughtless and just...less nice now, and I wish I weren't.