Depression 

“How does depression feels like?” A friend asked me that recently.

And this extract from a thoughtcatalog post perfectly says a lot.

It saps your energy, happiness is exhausting in a different way.

Even though you know there are people willing to help, you can never tell them everything.

Revealing the plot of your story would give away that tiny shred of control, or the illusion of control, that you so desperately feel that you need just to get by.

Plus, seeing happy people makes you feel as if you have some kind of obligation to get well, and you don’t want to have any obligations or distractions that you don’t invite yourself.
So instead you avoid people when you can so you don’t have to make yourself vulnerable to questions, to wondering if everyone knows that you’re really a big jumbled mess, unable to figure out how to get back to “happy,” or at the very least, back to “content.”

That’s why depression can be such a dangerous thing. You can appear absolutely normal and functional to the outside, but be silently screaming on the inside. And when you’re down, you wonder why you can’t just “be happy” again, and when you’re happy you feel guilty for those times you’re stuck in the dark.

Then there’s the middle ― that psychological purgatory ― neither way up or way down.

These are the times to remember that isolation is a symptom, not a solution, and that flowery language aside, there still are those small shards of light. For me, sometimes it’s sitting outside. Sometimes it’s trying to be funny to people I see. Sometimes it’s getting lost in a book or emailing someone I trust.

It’s like waking up in a nightmare, where reality is the nightmare. It’s unpredictable like the weather, changing time to time and times where you just want to be alone.

Fleeting thoughts and sometimes it might dwell deeper into the mind and cast some unhealthy thoughts even.

It’s like a storm conjured up in your own mind, eating you out alive.

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