depression is the opposite of love.
deep futility.
every emotion is numb.
you can’t feel pleasure or pain. you can’t remember what emotions felt like. you can’t imagine how it is possible to feel anything but the way you are feeling. if you remember what normal felt like, you could perhaps reach for it. but you don’t. your state knows no other state, cannot even guess that there are other ways to feel.
there is no energy, turning your head takes conscious effort. if there were a magic pill to make you feel completely better, and you have to cross to room to get the pill, you cannot do it. it’s a weight of chains around your neck.
this is what you have, this is who you are. you will be this way all your life. you get better but it never lasts.
feeling better is stressful, because you are walking along the edge of the abyss, going around and around the circumference, waiting for the inevitable slip. does love matter? can you care how someone feels when your life is this way? do you have time for morality, for empathy, for love, for how others feel?
and then it happens. you fall.
it’s happened so many times that you don’t even panic. you smile wryly, here we go. when you are falling backwards into a blackness, and you are looking at the world spinning and receding away from you, watching your love and your relationship and your work and your body and your self-worth spiraling away, does it matter that someone loves you?
you tell people that you love that you never have thoughts of suicide. but it isn’t true, is it?
