It's been a strange weekend. Depression, anhedonia, unable to get out of bed, unable to eat. Thoughts getting blacker and blacker. I've been through this a million times. "Hello depression, my old friend".
If I had to describe this attack of depression, I would say it's my Seymour Glass/bananafish depression. I cannot explain, but I always felt a kindred spirit to Seymour Glass, then his brother Buddy. Never felt that way with Holden Caulfield. I've never felt this type of depression so hard before, but I feel like a bananafish. I can't explain, I don't know if anyone would understand.
Here is part of the story below.
"You just keep your eyes open for any bananafish. This is a perfect
day for bananafish."
"I don't see any," Sybil said.
"That's understandable. Their habits are very peculiar." He kept
pushing the float. The water was not quite up to his chest. "They lead
a very tragic life," he said. "You know what they do, Sybil?"
She shook her head.
"Well, they swim into a hole where there's a lot of bananas. They're
very ordinary-looking fish when they swim in. But once they get in,
they behave like pigs. Why, I've known some bananafish to swim into a
banana hole and eat as many as seventy-eight bananas." He edged the
float and its passenger a foot closer to the horizon. "Naturally,
after that they're so fat they can't get out of the hole again. Can't
fit through the door."
"Not too far out," Sybil said. "What happens to them?"
"What happens to who?"
"Oh, you mean after they eat so many bananas they can't get out of the banana hole?"
"Yes," said Sybil.
"Well, I hate to tell you, Sybil. They die."
"Why?" asked Sybil.
"Well, they get banana fever. It's a terrible disease."
- J. D. Salinger, "A Perfect Day for Bananafish"
The complete story can be found here.