It’s so difficult to describe depression to someone who’s never been there, because it’s not sadness. I know sadness. Sadness is to cry and to feel. But it’s that cold absence of feeling— that really hollowed-out feeling.
It’s you. It’s been you for the past 486 days. Since the moment I met you. It’s you at 2 in the morning or 4 in the afternoon. It’s you when I’m sleeping and studying and eating and laughing. You are everywhere and you are everything.
I don’t owe people anything, and I don’t have to talk to them any more than I feel I need to.