The truth about my depression is this. It’s the devil living inside my brain and my heart, on a quest to destroy all of my cells until the last, catching every breath I take until I’m unable to inhale on my own, breaking every bone in my body until it eats me alive completely, destroys me, and kills me.
But above all, I like it because of the way it makes me feel. Like it’s heaven on earth. I like that it’s surreal and comforting at the same time. I like that it’s permanent and immutable. I like that such a pretty thing can never go away or disappear.