Gone.

Sinking slowly beneath the surface again, but one thing I learned from the last time was how to hold my breath a little longer. The word "depression" means so much and so little. To me, this is sort of a long term thing, or condition, something that lasts longer than other fleeting emotions. So I've also learned that I shouldn't use that word without really thinking about it's true meaning to me. Depression wasn't something that you could just stop. It had a momentum to it, like it was a huge boulder rolling down a hill at top speed. What kept that boulder rolling was the fact that the side of the hill it was on was angled downward. So the only thing you can really do to stop it is to try to push it back up. Depression wasn't something you could always easily identify, either. It was something that slowly set in, like really thick concrete drying. And by the time you realized that this was indeed what was wrong with you, that this was why you slept too much or too little, that this was why when you walked through the hallways at school, you felt like you were floating through a sea of souls, headed toward your ultimate demise, that this was why every time you tried to write something, the words were all tangled and confused and hurt and every feeling you had bunched up inside of your mind and your heart would get lodged behind your throat and make your eyes sting with tears. This was why. It was depression the whole time. The depression that made you cry. The depression that made you bleed. The depression that made you just a silhouette of the person you used to be. And now, now that I'm back from that dark space in my mind, I finally understand what was happening to me. And now I'm glad the darkness is gone.