January 18, 2021:
In these pieces where I've written of my own experiences of depression I've characterized it as essentially univocal, meaning I've abstracted it from its real-world hairball of comorbidities to examine it in isolation. In the real world, at any rate to the extent I want to credit my experiences with reality, it's co-existed since early days with a pretty significant ADHD I've only relatively recently come to recognize.
This is why I write these pierces in this form.
I don't think I could write a conventional extended narrative. I dunno. Maybe. Probably not. Hard to say. I doubt it. Could be. I don't think so.
Sometimes I wonder whether the stereotype of writers who drink or drug isn't rooted more in ADHD than an 18th century Romantic search for "inspiration" through intoxication. Where the purpose of the booze isn't so much to unlock stifled "creativity" as it is to make writing practicable by telling some or most of the author's competing inner voices to shut the fuck up so she or he can get some work done.