Depressive Days

Depression is the dark clouds rolling in overhead, blanketing the sky and extinguishing the sun’s rays. It is the calm before the inevitable storm; a tense quiet that hints at the turmoil to come. It is the smell of rain on the wind, carrying sadness in its wake. And it is the storm itself, with lashing torrents of rain, thunder that shakes you to your core, and brilliant flashes of lightning. 

It is an invisible weight settled heavily on your shoulders that can quickly become too much to bear. It causes you to stoop and prevents you from moving forward because the pain is too great. It keeps you rooted in one spot, doomed to suffer until the cloudy skies overhead clear and the sun begins to shine through.

Depression is the malignant, malice-filled voice whispering in your ear. It is the hiss telling you that you will never be good enough, that you will never be loved, and that you are worthless. It is the quiet yet devastating insinuation that your life is not worthy of being lived. It is the cold, callous hand on your shoulder that drags you backwards, nails digging into to your skin with such a visceral pain that it almost becomes tangible. It is the inability to hold your head up high for the weight of the world hanging on your every breath. With every exhale you expel, dark and poisonous energy spills out in front of you, creating a thick smog that is impossible to see through.

It is feeling lost in the middle of a vast ocean, all alone and barely managing to stay afloat. Sometimes your head even sinks below the crashing waves, and for a few moments you are eerily suspended under the water, tossing and turning with the force of the current. Each time, you are able to take only a few breaths of air in before you are submerged once more.

Depression is seeing the sun’s rays shining brightly and warmly on the world outside while feeling trapped inside a cold cell, unable to join. It is the silent scream that works its way up your throat but never quite escapes. It is the frigid hands wrapped around your neck, threatening to choke the very life out of you. It is irrepressible and omnipotent. It is horrifying and terrible.

Depression is evil.

But you are the sun shining through the clouds. Even if sometimes your ability to do so is thwarted, eventually, beautiful days win. You are the loud voice that shouts and fights its way out of the corner; you are the commanding presence that stands tall head and shoulders above the demons in your ear. You are the lifeboat that rescues you from the turbulent waters just when it feels like all hope is lost. You are strength, you are beauty, and you are life.

Always believe that your life is worth living. Always.


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