Depressed

I Tried to relate my life with a Cube. I think most people just think I'm a jerk.

When my depression is at its worst, I can't even bring myself to converse with others. People walk past me and say hello; I can raise my head and, if I'm lucky, manage a weak nod their way. I'm sure they think I'm just being antisocial at best and unpleasant at worst. I don't let people know that I'm being suffocated by my depression.

Depression is like being in that well in The Silence of the Lambs. That light's being pulled up and I just see the evidence of all the attempts to crawl out before, and in my head, it's evidence that the cloud won't lift. The weight on my chest is never going to let up; the pressure I can feel on my brain is winning.