If you know anything about depression you know it comes in waves
rising fast into an overpowering wall and breaking hard against the damp sand
stripping the shore of its tiniest inhabitants of beauty, taking every ounce of happiness with it
leaving the canvas blank and exposed.
From underneath the warm sun the ocean looks inviting, it's chaotic waves holding a certain beauty that can only be admired from those who aren't being taken under the tide by the powerful pull that is my depression
those people will never know what it feels like to be drowning in an ocean of happiness that you have unwillingly become numb to
they will never know how the ocean's depth can surround you in a darkness not even a candle could illuminate
The poets call it beautiful and the doctors call it curable but it is ugly and dark and raw and it will not leave me alone no matter how many times I ask it nicely.
Depression is the play date with bully from school, except the torture manifests in my brain, a part of me, and takes out it's anger on my body, a part of me.
All those times I told myself it would go away soon while I laid in my artificial night crying to some god that I am not even sure exists I wouldn't wish this on my worst enemy.
It is because of this that I know how the best sailors have become afraid of the ocean