This is not a happy post.

How do you describe depression to someone who has never had it? 

Do you say you’re sad and numb? 

Or that sometimes it feels like there are a thousand and one voices in your head?

That those thousand voices are telling you to chug that bottle, pick up that blade, or load that gun? 

It’s more than that. 

It’s crawling out of a hole so deep you can’t see the top, when in reality it’s only as deep as that puddle on the ground. 

It’s the $150 office visits to say you’re not okay, that you’re shaking with every fiber of your being trying to hold your soul together. 

Just... trying.

It’s trying different medications but being Afraid you’ll truly feel nothing on them. 

You see, I’d rather feel like my soul is on fire, like I’m screaming into an empty room, than to feel nothing. 

I would rather be able to feel that longing to drag that glass across my wrist.

That longing to see if there really are bugs crawling through my veins. 

The longing to know if that’s what makes me itch.

The longing for that one voice to say “don’t loose hope”

For that one voice to tell me to “breathe” 

For that one fucking voice to tell me to wait. 

That tomorrow will be better. 

But, for me, I feel....

Nothing. 

Like nothing is okay, or that nothing is right.

Like no matter what I do, nothing will fix this hole in me. 

That nothing will make me drop that blade, or not swallow those pills.

Because my depression is a selfish bitch. 

My depression is the middle child of emotions. 

The one who got picked last in gym class. 

A lovely ball of sarcasm all rolled into one. 

My depression is a part of me now.

Like my arm, or third toe on my left foot. 

Uncomplicated yet confusing and tragic as fuck. 

Aren’t you glad you asked?