Depression is evil. The fact that it gets to sink it’s teeth into fragile, grieving people is not right.

But nothing is right anymore. At least, not quite right.

I am missing a large part of my world and depression has decided to infect my thoughts because it makes so much sense to kick someone when they’re already down…sad and broken and down.

I don’t know what was real. I can’t feel my body and I can’t feel the ground. I lost the guide on my way out of the darkest hole and it feels like there’s no catch…my new reality is that I will keep falling.

I needed her to help me listen to my body…my intuition…the physical and emotional needs my body carries. But I can’t trust it now, and it sends me into such an overwhelming spiral that I suddenly don’t know what’s real at all.

Maybe everything I’ve thought and said and written is made up. And I don’t really matter. Maybe it’s not depression… maybe this is reality.

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