Depression feels like an exhaustion. No but not expended.

Depression feels like a loss of interest. No but not bored.

Depression feels like alone. No but not unattended.

In the deep groves of my brain lie the supplements to a,……..{what does this memory do to you?}

It lies.

Depression feels like a scattered document. No but not disorganized, more like with broken rules, punctuations past the margins, missed lessons on inflections.

Depression feels like an alien. No but not a language I’ve never learned, more like with reflections I’ve never met, in a mirror I bought online last week but received the wrong color frame.

Depression feels like I’m not in control, no but not out of control, more like a freefall from about 3 inches north of my nose, 10 stories down. 1 2 3 4 5.

It’s okay I’ll land on my feet. I always can?, right. Missed lessons.

Deep in the pathways,……{what does this memory do to you? Answer the question}

Depression is numbing, no but not emotionless, or maybe emotionfull, so full of emptiness. They’re making their way through, passing by 100 mph over speed limit and I shut my eyes wide. Reverberating feelings.

Do you know what I mean by that? Like the feelings are like,…….Answer the question.

Depression feels like the universe is there for me and sometimes I take photos of it so the deep grooves can be decorated.

She asked me once “What version of me do you think of?”, and I said the most recent one, the one I love the most. That’s still true today.

Is that the answer you wanted?