Depression is comfortable.
A warm blanket surrounding you in a comfy bed of thoughts.
One after another they won't stop but they're all the same.
I know this I can deal with this.
This pain the release oh I'm used to this.
Oh no, the thoughts are gone I'm free lets go explore.
And they return slowly and quickly but always return.
The warm blanket can no longer stay warm, the comforting death threats are no longer abided by me.
Depression can be comfortable.
It is there for you and everywhere and then suddenly gone and you're you again.
Until you start hating you and the cycle begins and I've you learn to like yourself a tiny bit the comfort recedes.
No longer will depression be comfortable.