Like an old friend inviting you to come inside.
Familiar. Comforting.
It will grasp you in its arms and hold you close;
And when you're ready to leave, it wont let you go.
You will beg and plead to be happy,
and it will put up a fight.
It will make you think that the only way to escape it is to take your own life.
If you are lucky, you can break free;
and it will sit and watch you from afar.
Calling your name.
Welcoming you back into it's arms.
It will intrude your thoughts.
Make you think you are worthless.
That you're better off dead.
Just keep telling yourself that it's all in your head.
Keep moving. You will get far.
Depression is not who you are.

A cloud sits upon my brain.
Blood runs down the drain.
I cannot feel any pain.

My stomach is tied in knots.
Food in the cupboard rots.
I am a product of negative thoughts.

Sleep until the sun sets.
Waking up in cold sweats.
Keep smoking those cigarettes.

Blood runs down the drain.
I cannot feel any pain.

You wear a mask like it’s some sort of disguise;
And you shift back and forth with sadness in your eyes.
The only thing pouring out of your mouth is a web of lies.
You lay in bed,
Voices in your head,
Wishing you were dead.
The saddest story I have ever read.

It's so easy to become comfortable with the highs and lows.
So comfortable that feeling level feels so forigne sometimes.
Like going outside in my underwear.
Like sleeping without a blanket.
Like walking around with your shoes untied.

But how do I be happy
when I'm so comfortable being sad?

When I was young, I became infatuated with a girl.
She had hair like the sun and eyes like the sky.
She was in love but she was not in love with me.
I did not understand why she stayed around someone who made her so unhappy.
At the time I had no experience when it came to long term relationships.
I didn't even know what love really was.
I didn't believe that I was ever going to find it.
So, naturally, I was crushed when she did not choose me.
I did not understand why she was with someone for so long who seemed to make her unhappy.
She is now married;
and I now understand why she did not give up everything that she built with that person.
Love is hard.
It is ugly.
It is painful.
Oh, but it is magical;
and when you fall in love, I don't believe you ever truly fall out of love.

Love is letting them wear your fuzzy socks because their feet are cold.
Love is going to get ice cream at 3:00 in the morning because they had a craving for a hot fudge sundae.
Love is making sure all of the blanket are even before you get into bed because they can't sleep if they're not.
Love is sleeping with the fan on even though you hate the noise.
Love is watching the same TV show with them even though they've watched it a million times.
Love is falling asleep to the sound of their snoring.
Love is waking up to their messy hair and naked face and still thinking they're the most beautiful person in the world.
Love is when being with that person feels like coming home.
Love is being someone's home.