Ever since that knock on the head, I've been sinking deeper and deeper into depression. We are having Easter dinner later today (along with the infamous egg hunt), some of the highest of the high in Beach society are coming and I can't seem to pull it together. Mr. Astor is beside himself trying to lift me up with everything from a dog to Prada, and I still find myself drifting away from him, away from my friends, just away. Depression is such a funky thing; a cut heals but this totally consumes you.