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Im not quite sure when the meeting was to decide that depression was the premire mental illness to glamorize by mentally healthy people, but I was certainly not invited.

When I was a sophomore in college, I was officially diagnosed with depression. Although, after one of my schools counselors (who honestly mightve actually been a psych student who was, like, only four years older than meI think he got assigned to me by accident) read me the symptoms, I suspected that I had been depressed since the early years of high school.

Since then, depression is now a very reluctantly accepted part of my life. Its engrained into my personality and my actions. It influences my thoughts, feelings, and decisions.

Which is why online content and people who glorify depression as ~*~moodiness~*~ or mysteriousness or enviable darkness or absolutely astound me.

Because I have been to the depths of hell before with my good buddies, Depression and Anxiety, and, frankly, I did see any of those people down there helping me.

Depression isnt beautiful. Its ugly. Its hideous to the point that when you’re taken over by it, people turn away. And nobody ignores beauty.

Haunting oversimplifies the complete travesty that depression wreaks in almost every aspect of your life. Depression isnt difficult to ignore,” , no: depression makes it difficult to think about anything else. Depression becomes you.

Depression is something you want to hideyou stuff it down your throat as you frantically try to find a distraction, until that point when everything bubbles up and you barely want to exist anymore.

Depression is losing will because you cant conjure up a good enough reason to do anything.

Depression is failing to find a reason to want to be conscious and to get out of bed.

Depression is not washing your hair for days. Its not brushing your teeth. Its wearing unclean clothes.

Depression is eating. Its eating so many Strawberry Pop-Tarts in one sitting, you feel heavy and slow. Its not eating for days, and feeling empty and hollow. Its both, its over and over again, it never stops.

Depression is sleep. Too much, and way too little. Youre always tirednot from the lack of sleepyoure a weird, unknown type of exhaustion that sneaks into your life and somehow, without you noticing, becomes part of who you are.

Depression is constantly apologizing to people you love for who you are.

What part of this is beautiful? What part of this is mysterious and brooding and exciting to be around?

If you want to use simplified language to talk about depressionlanguage that barely scratches the surfaceit’s not beautiful or haunting. It’s awful.

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