Depression is a shapeshifter with many different faces. Sometimes it presents itself as numbness and you wonder if you’ll ever feel anything other than the emptiness that has crept its way inside you. Other times it’s overwhelming sadness that has rooted itself so deep within your soul that you wonder was it planted there in a past life and with each reincarnation is it growing stronger and your tears are only watering it’s growth. And you wonder if you’ll ever see the light through it’s dense branches or if you’ll simply become the dark.
Depression has a way of picking you up and cradling you into his arms and carrying you to your bed, only to invite his cousin, Anxiety, to fuck you with her thoughts and suddenly you’re part of a threesome that you never consented to.
Your bed has become a jail cell, there are no bars physically holding you in, but you dare not try to escape. You could scream and cry and try to claw you’re way out but that bed confines you and suddenly you have no energy left in you to fight, so you lay there to think..
Because depression has a way of romanticizing death, of romanticizing the end of you so you think and wonder what it would be like to be in a situation where that was the outcome.
Sometimes depression is like a wolf and it is always up for the chase, so some nights you play dead until it leaves you alone.
That’s the thing about depression, though, he’s like a cowboy who can’t give up the ride. One day he’ll be here, and the next he’ll be gone.
When he visits, he doesn’t knock, he doesn’t wipe hist feet at the door, he just comes right on in.
Some nights we have a boxing match, tonight he wins, but tomorrow I will reclaim victory and it will be a better day.