When a depressed sandwich fails at life and love, he runs away to Greece on a whim only to discover that he cannot run away from himself.

It all started with a sad sandwich…

Yes, a literal sad sandwich. While my boyfriend and I were working at Amazon together, I would usually bring a lunch for both of us to eat together before our shift at night. On the weekends I worked two shifts back to back (10 hours), usually with only a 30 minute lunch in between, half of which seemed to be over by the time we walked into the break room and sat down. So, after a while I got in the habit of bringing something that didn’t have to be heated up or prepared. Sandwiches were perfect for that: I’d bring us humble turkey sandwiches equipped with a slice of pepper jack cheese, the occasional salame, olive oil mayonnaise, and mustard for me. He would laugh at my references to the food I made as sad, it’s just my sense of humor. Then the funniest thing happened. One day as I was making the same sort of sandwich to take to school to hurriedly eat between two long evening studio classes, I lackadaisically pulled two slices of sourdough bread out of the bag and saw it making the same face back at me! That night I couldn’t wait to do a drawing of it and thus Sad Sandwich was born and has gone on to be one of my favorite things I’ve done. Stay tuned to join him on his emotional journey through the horrors of depression and navigating this thing called life.