Being depressed is like being stuck in a blanket of thick, dense fog, a fog that not only conceals but numbs.
You can’t feel the tickle of the breeze, can’t see the sky above your head or the land beneath your feet.
Friends and family might be calling out for you, screaming your name, trying to reach you. They don’t know that their frantic cries reach you as whispers, a soft sigh barely heard.
Even if they could reach you, how do you explain to them that you’re stuck in a fog so thick it weighs you down. How can you tell people who have at most only ever seen a mildly overcast day that your world is in perpetual darkness, a fake twilight brought on by the sensation blocking fog that swoops and swoons around you.
Every movement is a struggle, like wading through a swamp, only you can’t hear, see, touch, smell or even taste anything through it.
Some people will only ever walk in the sun with barely a passing cloud to dampen their days.
why do I have to live in the dark?