Depression is not cute
nor fun. It is not a quirky characteristic.
Depression is not bathing for weeks because the effort seems like
far too much to handle. It is greasy hair and dirty skin. It is
staying in the bath for hours, contemplating drowning yourself,
and having your family call through the door to see if you are
okay every fifteen minutes. It is murky water.
Depression is wearing the same clothes for a few days because you
cannot be bothered to change. It is unbrushed hair and unbrushed
teeth. It is stretched-out crew necks and month old stains.
Depression is having your mother drag you out of bed, in the
afternoon.
Depression is hiding in the kitchen whilst everyone sleeps and
praying that you don't get caught with the only sharp blade
in the knife block. It is hiding sewing needles behind the
bathroom sink. It is sweating in long sleeves.
Depression is constantly filtering between hobbies, hoping that
somewhere you'll come across one that actually gives you joy.
It is uncompleted projects and unread books. It is consistent
boredom and disinterest in everything life has to offer.
Depression is sad and disgusting. It is ugly and lonely.
Depression is not cute nor fun.
