The worst thing about my depression is thinking people don't care when they actually do.
I look at the people in my life through glasses made of black smoke. Everything is dark and I can't breathe. Their voices are muffled and the words of comfort do not reach me.
A lighting storm in my head makes everything confusing. Did I dream that, or did that happen? The lightning shoots down any happy memories and leaves only the bad.
When I try to wait out the storm, the tides only rise, and the wind howls louder.
My family. My friends. My dog. They care. I tell myself this and try to remember something other than losing touch or friends avoiding me.
But sitting here alone, it is all I can think of.
So I sink into my pit. It is dark and cold; I am scared and alone. But I feel I have nowhere else to go.