If Depression Were a Storm...

If depression were a storm, the world might understand it better.

You can feel it coming, smell it in the air.

Prepare for impact:

Nail down the shutters, bring in the chairs, get out the candles, take shelter.

Hope everything you've built holds strong.

It gets calm. You wait—praying for a different path, praying to be spared, praying the storm will pass you by.

Then it hits. The air sucked out, like a vacuum.

Everything you worked for is ripped apart, helpless to stop it. Who are you to stop a storm?

You emerge from the wreckage, your world in pieces, everything undone.

So, you rebuild. Try new tactics. Learn to self-love, to live healthier.

Rebuilding means clearing debris, no new structures without removing the old.

Put in back-breaking labor, make it perfect.

Then months later, when you think you’ve made it, the weatherman alerts: Hurricane season is back.

And again, it’s a category 5.

In that moment, you realize—you’re done with the storms. All you want is to get the fuck out.

Indefinitely...

Author: Will Remain Anonymous... IYKYK... Thank you for sharing.