Depression could somehow feel like an imposter crawling under your skin, violating you from the inside. They won’t let up, they won’t back down no matter how hard you try to kick them out.
They mimic your every move and even have your voice down – but remember, THAT IS NOT YOU. You don’t know that person. That person is invading your space, riddling your thoughts with self-doubt and filling your head with bone-chilling negativity.
You wouldn’t want to listen, and yet you cling to the voices – hanging on to their every word, drawn to it like a magnet attracted to metal, a moth drawn to a flame, or sailors enchanted by the sirens.
Depression feels like a ton of bricks are stacked on the chest and no matter how hard you try to unstack them, more keep piling on and on and on and on… and suddenly, you just can’t get up.
You can’t get up.
You can’t breathe.
And then you ask yourself,
“What the fuck is wrong with me?”
“Why can’t I get up?”
