Depression is a kid with a magnifying glass, setting fire to everything it focuses on.
Depression is living your life, without enjoying doing anything, and not even realizing you don’t enjoy anything.
Depression is amplifying every other human foible and malady so that you just look lazy and selfish to other people. Being blamed for being yourself. Not good enough.
Depression is kind of understanding Kafka’s Metamorphosis after writing that last line.
Depression is seeing that the cure is on the other side of a bottomless chasm with no way to cross.
Depression is wanting a pill to fix it all.
Depression is taking a pill for years that doesn’t fix it all.
Depression is taking other pills that also don’t fix it all.
Depression is having nightmares about home invasions where your guns jam and don’t work. Where you strangle the intruder with jelly hands that do nothing.
Depression is writing thousands of words trying to understand, trying to find a thought pattern that leads out of the darkness.
Depression is hopelessness.
Depression is knowing that even the most decorated Nobel Prize winning scientists have no more clue how to fix it than retarded uncle Danny.
Depression is a cruel joke. Death finds a way.
Depression is writing stupid poems like this because you don’t even really know what depression is.
Depression is talking to an AI chatbot to help you unfuck yourself but not really helping at all.
Depression is obsessively collecting biometric data in order to find patterns.
Depression is a recursive death spiral thought process.
Depression is not a thought process.
Depression is a chemical imbalance.
Depression is not a chemical imbalance.
Depression is listening to self help gurus selling AG-1.
Depression is reading literature, looking for answers and being frustrated with their goddamn ambiguity. For whom the bell tolls? Not for me.
Depression is desperation.
Depression is not knowing you’re depressed.
Depression is DEFINITELY knowing you’re depressed.
Depression is going to sleep thinking about suicide and waking up writing a poem about depression which makes me suspect I’m not depressed anymore because I can write honestly about my feelings but knowing it’s not going to last.
Depression is trying to come up with stories to make myself feel better, to find a way out, an algorithm out of the darkness.
Depression is an inability to accept that that’s never going to work because then that means it’s all hopeless.
Depression is taking ketamine, getting better, getting worse, then going to sleep depressed and writing this poem and feeling better. Expressing myself honestly. It’s not the way out, it’s not the cure, it’s a release after a treatment. It’s a therapy to keep the darkness away. It’s a way to let the light drive, not the darkness, but also knowing it’s not really the answer.
Depression is having an endless supply of hope. Wait no. That’s the opposite of depression.
Hope is feeling some joy.
Hope is some treatments are starting to work.
Hope is accepting this poem kind of sucks and being okay with that.