I know what depression is like. It visits me now and again—always showing up unannounced like a presumptuous friend.
Depression is like turning a corner and finding an abyss. It’s like realizing the path you were following has completely vanished.
Depression is like finding out the elevator is broken and that your meeting has been moved up to the thirty-ninth floor. It makes even the simplest tasks impossible. Taking just one step forward becomes a chore.
Depression is like trying to hold happiness in a sieve. No matter how much you’re given, it doesn’t persist.
Depression is a deep darkness that even the sun cannot overcome. It is invisible, but not imaginary—fluid, yet cumbersome.
Depression is like a summer day everyone else can enjoy, but you’re still cold. It’s like knowing a fire is burning, but never feeling warm.
Depression is like being adrift and unsure of the shore. It’s like finally seeing land and then realizing it’s a hostile zone.
Depression is an invisible chain with a key that’s just beyond your reach. It’s a weight. It’s a prison. And no attempts to escape it succeed.
Depression is like trying to scream but never making a sound. It’s like a maze that only contains dead ends. It’s feeling too lost to be found.
Depression is a season whose length and strength are unknown. And then, just as spring dethrones winter, one day you wake up to find blossoms have grown.