What I Mean When I Say Depression

When I say I'm depressed, I mean I can't get out of bed.

Not that I don't want to.

I want nothing more than to get out from under this gigantic elephant that's pushing down on my chest to the point it feels like my ribs have shattered

When I say I'm depressed, I mean I'm suicidal.

When I say I'm suicidal, I mean if I was riding my bike across train tracks while a train was coming I wouldn't stop to let the train pass.

Because “Depression does pass.”

Everyone says it will get better.

Well guess what?

It hasn't.

That elephant is still crushing me.

That train has squashed me like a tomato that was hit by a bat, and then sat on by that elephant.

When I say I have anxiety, I mean the thought of stepping outside is like continually walking on tacks, and no matter which way you turn there's more tacks. So you stand there. As they sink into your skin.

When I say I have anxiety and depression, I mean it feels like someone is holding a pillow over my face making sure I can't breathe while telling me how my room smells like flowers and vanilla.

My anxiety keeps me awake with my inner voice screaming at me. Every word I think is just screaming at me. Every noise sounds like thunder crashing. My anxiety keeps me awake while my depression is telling me to sleep, my eyelids are heavy, my chest is compressed, I can't breathe, I can't think because everything is SO loud. Everything is spinning.

When I say I'd rather be dead than go through this, I mean I'd like it if the elephant finally crushed me and if the train finally squashed me.