The worst thing about depression? Nothing. Nothing at all. And that’s what’s so utterly awful about the thing.
Depression is a subtle disease. You never really know it’s there; there’s nothing to indicate that there’s actually anything wrong with you…except for the fact that you can hardly stand to get out of bed in the morning, or leave the house during the day, or do much of anything at all that might distinguish you as a Normal and Functional human being.
And over it all: Nothing. It’s got to be You, you figure: The problem has got be You, because it can’t just be Nothing. Depression is so hard to live with, and so hard to overcome, precisely because it doesn’t exist as a palpable or identifiable thing. Depression exists in, takes its shape from the Nothing. When you’re depressed, that Nothing becomes you: in every moment, in every way.
And believe me, nothing…Nothing…could ever be worse than that.