Depression

Now, I’m sure you have heard so many of these. These poems that describe depression, or you’ve read some book that talks about it. Something. And yes, this might be fairly cliche, but almost everything is if you think about it. And sometimes, cliche things are the best. So, depression. It’s an illness, a disorder. It’s bad. Hellish even. It can kill. It can isolate. It can do a lot. It has done a lot to me. I am not officially diagnosed with any form of depression. I have had exactly one meeting with a therapist and that is it. Go ahead and discredit me. I get it. But even if I don't officially have depression myself, I have been affected by it. Through my friends the ones that have severe depression. The ones that depend on me and everyone around them. And I depend on them because I feel depressed. So this is how it feels. How possible depression feels.
Depression is an unpredictable variable in life. Some days, on a scale of one to ten, it’s a 12. Others it’s a 1. Never below one though, you can always feel it, tugging on your mind.
It can be horribly aggressive, just screaming disgusting things for hours and hours. It can be all you hear.
Depression feels like you are being stabbed by nothing. A painful numb. An ache.
It brings friends to try and fill the numb.
Migraines. They fill the numb with pain, the feeling of your head being torn apart. Slowly.
Anxiety. A constant fear of what could happen next, the inability to talk to use words. Attacks.
Insomnia, Eating Disorders, delusions, paranoia, schizophrenia, ADHD, personality disorders, PTSD, OCD. Everything. Anything.
Depression makes miniscule problems bigger and bigger problems suffocating. Literally.
Once I was having a normal day, but then I thought about the possibility of someone I care about dieing, then I thought about my dog dieing, then. Well, then I kept thinking. Until I was in an empty house, curled up in the corner of my room, unable to breathe or stand Up. Thought I was as good as dead.
Another fantastic part of depression, is when someone tries to relate. I understand you think you’re helping, but you're not helping, in fact you’re helping is making it worse. Don't see me having an anxiety attack and say that everyone gets anxious and freaks out sometimes because that’s really not what’s happening. Don’t say everyone gets butterflies before performing because these aren’t butterflies, they are angry wasps. Don’t say you wish you could have an excuse to leave class sometimes because if you had this excuse even once, you'd never want it again. And Do not say everyone gets sad sometimes because I am not simply sad.
Depression is when you go somewhere with friends and try so hard to have fun, but you can’t and then you ask everyone if they enjoyed it. Everyone is quick to answer yes and you second guess if you were even really there. It doesn’t seem like it.
Depression swallows you. It swallows you whole. It is so big, it doesn’t worry about choking.
Depression can shape shift. It’s either a minnow in a gigantic pond or it is the gigantic pond itself. It has many, many names. So many that I could never name all of them.
Depression makes school a special hell. It’s almost impossible to find motivation to do work or get to the next class. It makes it almost impossible to present. Almost. Sometimes, when lucky you can get through a whole day without even a sign of an attack, without but two depressing thoughts.
Those good days push me along. They keep me at least somewhere near sane. Even Though those bads days exist where you’re experiencing too many emotions. Too many symptoms. Simply too much. That's what this is. Too much.