depression always was my favorite lover.

always so welcoming. always so accepting.

always wanting to keep me isolated from everyone else, only having me in its company.

depression was familiar. to be encompassed in it was something i knew all too well. 

no, you don’t need to see your friends. they don’t understand you. they don’t understand us. being with them will only ultimately make matters worse.

no, you need to stay here. alone with me.

depression is staying in bed all day because you can’t bare to leave its side. depression is knowing that no matter where you go, it will follow. when it leaves, for however short a period of time, it comes right back again, sometimes more aggressively, sometimes not. sometimes it slowly comes back, to where i’m not sure if it’s the same one i last knew, or if it’s changed. if it’s something different, something less controlling. maybe i can spend time with my friendstoday without having to worry about you. maybe not. 

depression is tiring.

depression is needy.

depression is the longest relationship i’ve been in.

depression is my endless lover.