Depression. It sucks, a lot. It’s not about being sad all the time, because sometimes I can’t feel anything. It’s not about snapping out of it because so often there is no reason for why I am feeling depressed. It creeps up on me at the most inopportune moments, seemingly out of the blue, only to leave just as quickly. Other times it gradually eases its way into my life making itself comfortable and settling in for the long haul.

It’s a feeling of complete and utter hopelessness. It could be a beautiful sunny day but I’ll feel claustrophobic, like I’m trapped in the dark with no way out. Everything is overwhelming. The thought of getting out of bed is terrifying. There’s no rhyme or reason, I just know, in that depressed moment, however long it lasts, that only bad things will come of getting out of bed.

The self…