This is so relatable. And beautifully written.
If you ask me on a good day what depression feels like, my answer will be the same as it would be if it were posed on a bad one. The sensation is constant, but the timing is not. It is not steady predictability or flat surface. It is not beautiful sadness tied together with a whisky filled mind and a mouth hollow from too many cigarettes. It is not a desirable ache that inhabits pretty girls with soft hands and a love for literature. It is not delicate and pale. It is not freckles and bitten lips. It is not romantic.
Depression is my Saturday mornings turning into Mondays and Mondays evolving into impossible. It is the ringing of an alarm every hour of the day. It is the sun rising while darkness sets in the stomach. It is my body is awake but my mind is tired…
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