Depression is making a gratitude list in your head, and realising all you have on it is things like ‘breathing’ and ‘this coke I am drinking’.
Depression is realising other people have much better gratitude lists full of charming, engaging, fun and nourishing things, and hating them for it.
Depression is then realising you didn’t include friends, family or your cats on your gratitude list and feeling like even more of a shithouse human being.
Depression is realising complete, sustained unconsciousness is better than this. Some call that death, or just sleeping for a long time without the obligation to go to work, or being knocked out by booze or other drugs.
Depression is saying aloud to a friend that yeah, you know you can’t realistically kill yourself, because you’d need at least 10k in the bank to sustain your cats after you die, and you have less than 2k.
Depression is resenting your cats for being dependent on you and thus meaning you can’t leave them.
Depression is hating other people for their happiness. Depression is wishing there was an unlike button for all the ‘happy couple’ photos on facebook.
Depression is believing you will never again – and probably never really did! – enjoy a meaningful relationship with another human being.
Depression is not even caring that you’re stuck in a shit job where you are treated badly most of the time, because you deserve it.
Depression is constantly updating your status so you can feel like your barely meaningful notable existence has somehow been etched into significance.
Depression is looking at broken glass at work and grinding it into the ground, wishing your feet were bare.
Depression is eating horrible, empty-caloried, nutritionally blank food that doesn’t even taste good because your love for food has vanished.
Depression is blowing off social engagements to hide in your bat-cave.
Depression is a pain, just inside your chest, when you laugh without any real mirth, and to replicate a socially expected response.
Depression is engaging in mental self-harm by listening to songs from your wedding, specifically because you know it will hurt like hell and trigger you and you want to do that.
Depression is searching your house over and over for an old valium stash and not finding any and laying on your bed and staring at the ceiling for hours instead.
Depression is boring exhaustion and heavy, stuck shut mouth that can’t be bothered.
Depression is over identifying with songs, movies and art and feeling physical sensations of anxiety, discomfort, and wrecking sadness after repeated ingestions of hurtful media.
Depression is starting by not caring that you feel like shit, to actively wanting to feel like shit. Because that seems fitting, and deserved.
For me, that’s what depression is, for a few weeks every now and again. It never lasts, and always returns – there’s the rub.
And that’s how I feel at the moment.
That’s why I’m blowing you off and dodging your calls and answering your “how are you?” with “yeah…you know.”
Fill in the blanks with something positive. I’ll happily live in your imagination until I return to life.