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Soma
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it's not that my_depression_is_a_hole_in_the_ground.
Because if I looked up, I would see light.
Rather, my depression is a curving tunnel through which I must past. My journey through is shadow first, with light visible behind me, the shades of grey grow, and the shadows deepen as I trudge forward. The lights there are artifical, a cheap imitation of the sun. Not all tunnels have lights though, and often I can see nothing. I am frozen in fear in the pitch black of a curving tunnel. I do not expect light to ever return, and slowly, as I progress forward, the light slowly returns. My medicine is a car, allowing me to traverse these tunnels more quickly. My life is a road, on a treacherous mountain path it seems. I am waiting for the day when my tunnel collapses, or the day I leave the mountain for the shores.
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