Sadness Is Not Depression

Sadness is not depression.

Depression is physical. It is chemical. It is not me, yet it is me ... it is all me.

Depression is a cage with an apparent key. You cannot lift it.

Depression is a blanket that has no warmth. It is a weighted vest, a time bomb, an impenetrable shell. It punches you from all directions. It is a hand, choking.

Depression is an action and you are the object. It is a drama in which you are the star and the audience.

Depression is mean. It is fractured relationships. It is watching it happen. It is a hobgoblin, a beast, a shiver, a scream ... a very quiet scream.

Depression is faking it. It is hiding it. It is explaining it and explaining it again. It is wanting, yet you know not what for. It requires great effort.

Depression is breathing deeply, it is stretching, it is waiting. It is writing.

Depression is a long winter. It is a deep well, a long pause, a deep sigh. Even puppies cannot cure it.

Depression is a lost nation of thought ... all around you. What was good yesterday cannot be found.

Depression is mostly wrong.

Depression is self-obsession, narcissism, the universe is spinning and you are the fulcrum.

Depression is tiring, it is lonely even in crowded rooms, it is eating because it feels good.

Depression is a lot of things, but it is definitely not sadness.