I was asked to describe Depression for a friend.
Fortunately, they have never had to experience it, so really, where do I begin? All I could do, is describe my own experience. Everyone's being unique to them. .
Depression. The abusive lover. The one that finds your most intimate thoughts, your weakness and vulnerability and cherishes it. Insidious, devious, selfish. Starting without drama. A tiredness, inability to sleep, frustration with life and people.
And here it comes. The seducer.
The whispering voice. 'You're right, you know. You really aren't that special'. 'Aye, you've really fucked this up'. 'Turn to me.... take me into you... let me help'.
And like the abusive lover, slowly but surely it isolates you. Friends become trials to endure. 'Let me think for you', it whispers. Slowly shutting you off from the world. Your thoughts no longer your own, every decision taken by the darkness that rides on your back.
The very flavour of life fades.
Left to it's own devices, it begins it's darkest whispering.... do you really need to be here? Who would miss you?
It's ultimate aim is the slow fading of you. The destruction and seduction of all joy.
If anxiety provides a million what ifs, depression gives one...