Depression

Depression isn't just being sad. People get sad, it's a normal part of human existence. Depression, though, is sneaky. It creeps up on you at the last minute and wraps it's bony fingers around your neck until you start to shake, holding back the tears that you never wanted to let out. He grips tighter and tighter until you're drowning in a pool of your own metaphoric blood.

It doesn't stop their, though. It gets deeper and deeper into your bones and makes you hate everything you are, that you where, and especially what you will become. Still, those with depression look like everyone else. They smile, but it's fake. They laugh, but it hurts. When they go home and lay their heads down on their pillows though, they're the only ones who know about the scars, and the little nagging voice of the monster above their bed with it's tiny hands still clamped around their throat whispering hateful things.

The cutting and the self hate and the tears are never put on display. People with depression don't put their problems on display; they want anything but to be the center of anyone's attention. The thought of someone finding out about how they are makes them crazy, as least it does for me.

So, don't tell the depressed to just think happy thoughts. You've never had those bony fingers choking you until you pass out from self loathing.