My plants are dying and so am I. And I don’t mean the existential “every day I inch closer to death” dying (let’s try not to think about that one too much), but a metaphorical, seasonal death.
With winter comes a whole lot of feeling for me — not only do I have regular depression that stays with me year round, but I was also blessed with the “Super Fun Bleak Times Combo Pack” that comes with a bonus: seasonal affective depression (free of charge!). This means that I would be hard pressed to qualify as an actual, fully functioning human adult during the cold months of the year.
As my plants wilt and lose their leaves from the lack of sun, so too do I. When I look around my graveyard of a bedroom at all the drooping leaves all I can think is “bro, same.” Someone please water us and tell us we’re still pretty, it’s getting kind of scary in here.
Darien Johnsen is a UFV alumni who obtained her Bachelor of Arts degree with double extended minors in Global Development Studies and Sociology in 2020. She started writing for The Cascade in 2018, taking on the role of features editor shortly after. She’s passionate about justice, sustainable development, and education.