D: Not so fast, homegirl. Better stay in bed. You're gonna be here awhile.
Me: What?! You again? I thought I banished you with therapy and medicine!
D: Bwahahha! Yeah, riiiiiiight. Therapy and medicine might put a muzzle on me, but don't worry--I still have plenty of teeth and a nasty bite.
Me: Fuck you, asshole. I have nothing to be sad about so therefore you should leave.
D: HAHAHA! You think SAD has anything to do with it? If anything, a lack of concrete things to be "sad" about only makes me stronger.
Me: What do you mean?
D: I mean, it helps me stick around while you search in vain for my cause. You've got a good life. So what IS IT? What's WRONG? Hahaha! This is where I really shine: Should you have a different life? Should you have gone to medical school instead? Should you be living somewhere else? With someone else? Should you be a better friend? A better mother? Should you have an entirely different existence? But of course!! My answer to all of these questions is definitely yes, and it's too late. There are so many things you're bad at. See, that's my job. To whisper in your ear and taunt you until you cry, and tell you to ruminate obsessively on all of your failings, and then make you feel even worse, because you know you're not entitled to the indulgent futility of regret.
Me: Will there ever be a time when you just leave me the fuck alone forever?
D: Doubtful. Now go color in one of your ridiculous coloring books or pick at your face or something. I'll be waiting.
Me: Awesome, thanks. Goodnight.