(snippet 1)

My Take on Depression:

Empty fucking black death grief hopelessness cotton wool wanting to die, pure anger meaningless tears heavy eternal numb cancerous oxygen, all-encompassing drowning dark bile, succumbing parasitic consuming shadow, walking petrification uninvited heroin helpless void worthless death limbo black fear in your veins, begging, praying, pleading, death.

(snippet 2)

I can feel my depression from my head to my toes, it’s a physical feeling. Some days it’s worse than others, I often feel like I am in mourning, like someone has died. Or that feeling when someone breaks up with you. It’s a loss, a kind of grief. For what? I don’t know. Maybe the me I wish I was but can’t find.

I can hide it though, not as well as I used to be able to, but you wouldn’t know if I didn’t want you to. I could be dying black emptiness inside but laughing and joking on the outside. It’s fucking exhausting.

And there isn’t always a reason, something bad doesn’t need to happen for me to feel depressed. A lot of the time it’s just a simple case of waking up.

(Snippet 3)

It effects every aspect of my life; from the moment I wake until I go to bed. I get up and get ready and walk to the station in limbo like a zombie. Heavy feet. I stand on the platform thinking about jumping in front of the train as it pulls in. I get to work and I will eat my breakfast in the canteen on my own, avoiding everyone, same at lunch. I will get in the lift and avoid talking, earphones in. I will sit at my desk and not do any work for eight hours. Staring at the screen and dying inside pretending to work. I will get up and go the toilet throughout the day just to be alone, sometimes to cry. I didn’t even cry when my kids were born. But just being alive and at work instead of in bed will drive me to tears.

I will walk home from the station holding back tears preparing myself to walk into my house to my kids and Sarah like everything is fine. Having a conversation is exhausting. Eating is exhausting. Thinking is exhausting. Doing nothing is exhausting.

I cry because I have no idea what normal feels like, I cry because I never will, I cry because I can’t do this.

And I think about dying every single day. Like it’s the only way to cure this, to take back control. To get rid of the black. But I can’t.

This is my day, this is my life.

(Snippet 4)

According to one million people commit suicide globally each year and there are between ten and twenty million attempts each year. To put that into context, 940,000 people died of AIDS in 2017 globally, also in 2017, 9.6 million people were estimated to die from cancer. To be very clear, I am not putting either AIDS or Cancer down, they are two very serious illnesses, and they are recognised as illnesses, by everyone. The same can’t be said about depression. It is still treated as a taboo subject by too many people. If every single person who attempted suicide succeeded, it would be the worlds biggest killer.

My point is anyone can suffer from depression, regardless of wealth, good living conditions and happy relationships. Depression can be triggered by fuck all. Imagine that, literally nothing needs to happen for someone to be depressed. That’s what people don’t understand. It can take over and convince you there is no way out other than death.

It convinces you you are alone and worthless. No matter what anybody says to the contrary.

It fucking sucks.