Depression is like this crushing weight, this mantle of sadness that you can’t take off. And it is so heavy. You don’t want to wear it, because it makes everything seem pointless and it drags the ground wherever you go. You try to stand up under the weight of it, but it is persistent, and it pulls you down and down until you feel so small and insignificant that you think you might disappear. And if it is really bad, you think everyone might be better off if you did.
Depression is sticky, like a spider’s web, and you’ll try and try, and you might think you finally got it all off, only to find that you can’t breathe and you can’t see and all you can feel is guilt – guilt that you’re crazy, and sticky, and always crying. Guilt for not being strong enough to throw off the cloak and clean up the webs. Guilt for being weak and for being in pain and for just wanting to hide.
Depression is like this bottomless pit and you just keep falling. You might reach out and try to stop the fall – or you might be so far down in the dark that you don’t think you’re worth saving.
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