Depression is the inability to see things improving. The feeling that nobody likes you. Shutting yourself away. Eating barely enough to keep you alive. Not paying bills. Intense anxiety and rage when having to deal with people or leave the house. Crying on the way back to the house. Feeling like everything about you is wrong. Being unable to work. Self harming. Feeling ugly. Sleeping all the hours you have, and all the hours you don’t. A chemical imbalance. Denial. Depression is hard to endure. It’s feeling alone. It’s avoiding changing your ostomy bag until it leaks. It’s wanting to help yourself but not knowing how. It’s having two hour days. It’s taking meds, yet more meds, addictive meds and not caring. It’s the feeling that any good stretch is false, temporary and depression is your natural state of being. It is feeling hopeless, just not hopeless or concerned enough to bother anyone. It’s exhaustion from trauma, the trauma of everything you’ve been through, and all that’s on its way. It’s everything catching up with you. It’s not knowing what to do to stop feeling like this. It’s explaining to people that you feel “down” like it’s something they understand. It’s not really being sure if anyone understands. It’s aimless, pointless, natural selection weeding out the weak. It’s being beaten down by society and all the people in it. It’s the creeping microaggressions and hints that you are not good enough. It’s memories of childhood rejection, it’s being told that what you are is wrong, it’s a crack in your self-assuredness. It’s the after-effects of being made to hide who you are from friends and family. It’s your brave face crumbling. It’s no amount of reassurance ever being enough. It’s all too much. It’s realising chronic illness is forever, with no respite, until you die. It’s anger at how unjust and unfair this is. It’s not knowing whether to rage or cry. It’s driving in a daze. It’s the feeling of being inherently unsafe in your own skin.