Sometimes I feel a fog of depression. Lately it has taken the form of a slow creepy funk that washes over me. And then sticks around like a cloud. Sometimes for a couple of days. Sometimes longer. Have you ever tried to explain to someone [who has never experienced it] something intangible? Indescribable? It is frustrating. Especially since you know all they want to do is help you. They want to understand, but they can’t. And it makes it that much harder. Alone, but not.
It’s not sadness. It almost doesn’t feel like depression, in the usual sense. It feels like I’m not myself. And I don’t like it.
And it will pass. And I will be me again.
:: This post has been brought to you by my every other night insomnia ::