"the other thing about depression is it kind of collapses time. suddenly you find your whole days blending together to create one endless and suffocating loop and eventually all you ca think about is how life has always been this way and will only continue to be this way" Rue - Euphoria
We can't escape it. We never escape it. Depression embeds itself in every one of your cells, traverses your veins to your arteries to take control of the very essence of your heart. And as soon as you try to catch your breath to move forward, it sneaks a little deeper into the recesses of your mind. It clings to every hope you have of getting through it, dragging you further down into the water. And you suffocate. The water enters your lungs, and it laughs. It laughs heartily, having conquered you because it knew all too well that you couldn't fight back.
Depression doesn't leave. It grants you moments of respite, lets you believe you've overcome it, only to engulf you once again.
So when you're told to take control, to simply smile and that ultimately, nothing is that serious, you laugh. But nothing happens on your face anymore. Nothing, because none of your muscles work according to your will. Because if you could, nothing would have functioned for a long time.
"Stop looking so glum, you always make everything about yourself."
We're told to talk about it. The endless slogans like "depression is easier with company" were heard during the only old awareness campaign that happened in school. So you think to yourself, "okay, I'll try." And you end up with a wall of indifference so strong that you would have preferred to stay in your corner, hoping that someone would care about your condition. That someone would make an effort to find a solution. That a fellow passenger on a flight would help you put on your oxygen mask too. But no. A whole lotta nothing passes through their eyes. You get the classic "it'll be okay" before they gently explain why Marie and Emma don't get along and how much of a jerk Antoine is. So you smile, you nod, and you count the minutes until you're finally accepted into society's policy of leaving with a well-prepared excuse. You count the minutes that separate you from your bathroom and your razor blade. Until the pain, that moment of ecstasy, makes you experience, for a fleeting instant, what it would be like if it all finally ended.
Then you go see doctors, they medicate you, and you find yourself in a state where nothing reaches you anymore. But your loved ones are reassured; you're no longer having crises, that's the main thing. In the end, you no longer bother them, and that suits them just fine. So you think, perfect, maybe this is what life is actually like. Until depression knocks on the door again and offers you its reassuring hand.
And the cycle begins anew. It never stops because from the moment it laid a finger on you, it never lets you go, and you don't let it go either. Depression is the darkest corner of your soul, but it's also the place where you've spent the most time. It's a bit like home, after all. You don't know how to live without it anymore. It becomes a part of your personality. Even though the people around you persistently say that you were always a very active child and that you haven't changed because you can put on a mask, oh, you know how to do that. You've realized that there's no point in letting people in to help you, so you shut them out and show them what they want to see. That everything is fine. Because that's all they insist on, that ultimately, "everything will be fine," and you show them that they're right. You show them that they're right so that they leave you alone so you can stay at home with your worst enemy who has also become your dear friend.
Sometimes you wake up, and stepping outside, you feel the gentle breeze on your cheek, and the soft morning sunlight spreads down to your neck in a reassuring motion. And you think to yourself, maybe today will be better. Maybe the medication helps. Maybe my psychologist was right. You walk, one step after another, without feeling like you're carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. Not walking lightly, no. But you're not collapsing. You go to get some bread, and the baker greets you with a smile that warms your heart, and suddenly you think that maybe some people wish you well. You go to school, to work, a smile forms, and the day starts with the feeling that the sun has managed to break through the cloud cover. Then in the evening, you come home with the desire to cook yourself a nice meal and watch your favorite series. You're in the elevator, and a suffocating pang pierces through your head.
It's there.
