Depression,

is a blanket.

One that makes you happy,

until you wash it.

It provides warmth and comforts you,

until you need it most.

Then,

it stabs you in the back.

It becomes worn.

You have to throw the happiness away,

even though the thought,

makes you want to cry.

To kick and scream and,

hope you don't hurt anybody on the long drive to “okay.”

Secrets must now be kept,

never told.

They must be buried,

never dug up,

never noticed.

Smiles are now fake,

laughs are just quiet cries for help.

You are now colorblind,

but your friends keep telling you how colorful the world is.

You keep trying to kill your sadness,

which ultimately makes you a bad person.

Depression makes you want to talk about it,

to scream and yell,

but all you can do is whisper,

“I’m fine.”

They say “How are you doing?”

But what they really mean is, “Are you over it yet?”

I’m not over it yet!

Sleep is no longer about being tired,

it's an escape.

It’s hoping to fall asleep,

before you fall apart.

Depression is not a choice,

no one chooses to have dark days,

sleepless nights,

grumpy mornings,

or to be stuck in this endless dark tunnel called life.

You keep judging my pain,

even though you’ve never experienced it.

I woke up feeling this way one day,

It’s almost like something broke.

The truth is,

I look broken but I’m just bent.

I look disfigured but I’m just scarred.

I seem hopeless but I’m just sad.

I appear to be powerless but I’m just afraid.

Every thought that I think is a battle,

every breath that I breathe is a war.

Because when your depressed,

you don’t control your thoughts,

they control you.

People think depression is sadness.

People think depression is crying.

People think depression is dressing in black.

But people are wrong.

Depression is the constant feeling of being numb.

Being numb to emotions,

being numb to life.

You wake up in the morning just to go back to bed again.

Depression is popping holes in your,

own life raft in the middle of the ocean.