One of the things about depression is that it is sneaky. You think you’re doing pretty good, and then it grabs you from behind, wrestles you to the ground, and twists your arm behind your back until you scream uncle.
I have been screaming all week long, and I wish it would let me go.
The world almost disappears to me when things are like this. All I see is my own pain, my own mistakes, my own end.
And I disappear to the world. People look right through you. Or worse, they straight up deny you.
It becomes a cycle, and the only end to the cycle is when you are completely gone.