It’s like being a spectator in your own body. It’s watching things happen that you wish you could stop, but feeling like you have no control over them at all. It’s knowing there’s a problem and having no solution, while screaming internally for help, yet being stoic nonetheless.
It’s the dark circles under your eyes that never go away; being more tired waking up than you were when you went to sleep. It’s lying in bed with no motivation no matter how much rest you get; feeling like you are perpetually hungover without ingesting an ounce of alcohol at all.
It’s oily, messy hair and not showering for days, but when you can muster the motivation, letting the water run over you for hours on end because it’s the only place that feels safe.
It’s knowing you should be happy, having every reason to be happy, and still feeling nothing. It’s being surrounded by friends, by family, by coworkers, hell even the people you pass on the street, and still feeling utterly and absolutely alone. It’s not talking about it because you don’t want to be a burden. It’s feeling like they wouldn’t understand anyway.
It’s feeling like you are the only person that has ever and will ever feel this way; feeling like you are unique, but not in a good way. It’s feeling like every person you look at has it so together while everything around you and in you is wrong.
It feels like you are being punished for some crime, some offense you didn’t commit. You didn’t ask for this, you didn’t do anything to bring this on, but yet here you are, carrying the entire weight of your very existence.
Depression wears many different faces. It is unique to every person. Some days are lighter, others heavier, but nevertheless, it’s always there.