It’s a monster you cannot see.
Seeping through the crevices of your life to invade your senses and corrupt your sensibilities. It molds its corrupted form over your thoughts, feelings, and emotions and contorts them into lies you cannot help but believe.
That’s how depression works. That’s what’s so insidious about it. It comes as poison cloaked as truth. It likens itself to wisdom, when in reality it’s a blanket made from knives. There’s no truth or comfort in its machinations. Only a prison of pain.