Is it any wonder?

I'm in the middle of my "can't watch the news or even glance at a newspaper" place. It falls right after the "what the hell is wrong with people?" place, and right before the "we are all doomed" place. It's a cycle I revisit regularly. Fear, ignore, succumb; repeat.

So I called my Dad and asked if he thought I was depressed. Not sad, we all get sad, depressed, like in need of taking little pills and re-hashing my childhood for ninety dollars an hour to a corduroy wearing narcissist depressed. He said he didn't think so. He called me "wildly empathetic", said I'd always felt things strongly, my whole life, always took the injustices of the world particularly hard. I told him that didn't sound like a ringing endorsement of my mental health, it sounded more like something the parents of a serial killer would tell a jury. He laughed, "No, they always say they were 'quiet', 'kept to themselves', 'a 'loner'."
"Well I guess that rules me out."
"All I know is no one has ever accused you of being 'quiet'..."
"Um (giggling) ...no."
"Yeah, I think your in the clear."
"Okay, I'll never be a serial killer, but that doesn't mean I'm not depressed."
"Depressed? You know who's depressed? Serial killers. That's no way to live..."
"Dad! I'm being serious!"
"...find the people, kill the people, hide the bodies..."
"You're not going to answer my question are you?"
"...gotta wear those stupid glasses...live a lie under the cover of night...that'd bum a person out..."