Love and depression are such similar existences. Both are something more powerful, too powerful, to fit under a list of just emotions or feelings.
Both are equally dangerous, and both are the most misunderstood.

But love is a little funnier.
Love can bring us together but as much as it may do so, it's better at splitting us apart.

See there are two types of people in this world; those who crave to feel love, but never will, and those who cannot un-feel love, and wish they were among the others because emptiness and loneliness may be just a little better than worthlessness.
But in the middle of these two chaotically different, demon-filled hells... is balance.
It's where only a few people are blessed with someone who loves them just as much as they do.
And these people live totally different lives than those of us in limbo.

I'm among those in that limbo-state. That state where you already feel dead, where the loneliness makes you feel like you're in some unknown dimension scientists won't discover for the next one hundred years.
Some people break free from this place, some remain floating like a weightless piece of plastic in the ocean, going wherever the waves take them, but never seeing anything more than vastness- always being reminded of how lost they are in the middle of nowhere.

And others... drown.
They die twice; once to join into limbo, join into the ocean.
And the second time they fall deep beneath the waves. And below this surface exists the loudest silence, the most brutal currents, the deadliest scavengers- all among those who won't wait until you've died to pick and tear at your bones.