Depression, inherently, is not a fun thing to have to deal with. Sleepless nights, sleep filled mornings, bedridden afternoons and desperate pining evenings punctuated by trying so hard to be alright that it hurts. Surrounded by those who love you you are still so alone, constantly. And when you get really bad, no matter how much you want them near you, you can't let them. You can't let them see you like that.

Depression fucks up your life something awful. Every time you have something joyous occur -- a new friend, a relationship, a promotion -- you immediately grow paranoid that your problems will end it with a haste unimaginable. Even when it doesn't, it only makes you more fearful of the seemingly inevitable collapse until your own fear is what dissolves the happiness. You know that your fear was what caused it then, with both validates the depression and worsens it. How awful is it that you ruined something wonderful all by yourself? Something close to happiness, thrown down the drain by your own accord? It wears on you.

The people around you, even if they understand, you feel so distant from. To let someone in close is to be hurt by them; rather, it is to grow so frightened of losing or hurting them that it hurts you. Depression is not glamorous, sexy, attractive, any of that, and you know it. You are depression when you are depressed -- any redeeming wonderful qualities of yourself are gone and unimportant. Sure I'm handsome, yes I'm funny, but god damn it all I can do is cry in the morning. How can you love me? How can you care about me when I am like this? I'm worthless. That is the mantra of depression.

To be so acutely aware of such pain is to only worsen it. When it is not a conscious portion of yourself, even a subconscious portion but instead a chemical matter, you are almost literally helpless against it without medication. It's like trying to drive a car with no gas. You know how to get there, you know how to use the tools you have. No matter how hard you try, however, it just won't go. You push and push and shove and shove but the car that is your life is immobile. Then the small little voice in the back of your head that is your fucked up level of serotonin goes "hey... you should have put gas in the car". And the spiral begins.

A spiral is when you become depressed about being depressed. This recursive structure is, frankly, not something I would wish on anyone. Pulling out often happens only after crying until you can't think -- I've literally fallen unconscious into sleep as a result of this sort of thing.

Seeing a counselor helps, but isn't really enough. Someone to talk to who is qualified to talk back is nice, of course. However, when your problem is deeper than a mindset it's not exactly a road to El Dorado. I don't know what medication will do to me. But please, please god let it change something.

I don't want to hurt my girlfriend, my friends, my family, myself any more. I want to be able to be loved. God, please, let me be able to be loved.