The oddest thing about depression is you can't exactly say you're dying of it.
Cancer? Pneumonia? Sure. You could tell people those are the things that are killing you.
But you can't exactly say you're dying of depression.
The fatality of this abnormality of an illness is severe.
You struggle day in, day out, trying to find your way out of this dark, numbing tunnel without light.
You don't get to say you're dying of depression, even if it feels like it. Because you have to have hope.
Unlike a Stage 4 Cancer patient who's coughing up blood in their hospital bed, you still have the chance to make it.
Yet you feel like the guy in the other room currently having the end of his life signaled by one long beep and a matching horizontal line, except...
You.. Aren't dead.
The numbness and lack of energy caused by a chemical imbalance in your head are just the symptoms of your slow decline into the same nothingness that becomes of the old man with a heart failure that they couldn't revive, bring back to life, no matter how hard they tried.
And your fake smiles are just as broken hearted as the little girl with leukemia's who's trying to reassure her parents they'll be fine without her.
And those days you will yourself out of bed...
Those good days you don't let the thoughts in your head control you... Are just as important as the days the man with the new prosthetic leg tries to walk, despite not knowing how as an amputee.
You... Are strong.
And those days where you can't get up, where you can't eat, where it's doesn't feel like you're strong... Those days are okay to have. Those are the days the mother with breast cancer breaks down and cries for herself instead of just her kids. It's okay to not be okay sometimes.
But
You're strong
Even on your worst days, you're strong.
Because you're still here and you haven't given up.
Stay Strong, Beautiful.
You can do this.