I always thought my depression lasted for a few muted, rainy days, but here I sit with the sun in my eyes and a warm breeze on my skin and I haven't felt so much pain as I do now.

I always thought my depression was like a knife in my stomach, but it honesty feels like knives are coming from inside me, traveling through my veins and piercing my skin until no one can touch me for fear of getting cut.

I always thought my depression made way for a new outlook on art, music, writing, and life in general, but I haven't painted, sung, or written in months and I am as sure as hell that I haven't lived.