Depression isn’t just thinking about killing yourself all the time. 

Sometimes I don’t even think about that.

I think about quiet. 

I think about how much easier it would be.

But what do I know? 

It’s pretty much all I can remember. 

As far back as I can think I’ve had to TRY to be happy.

It seems to come naturally to everyone. 

Like a party they’ve all been invited to whilst I’m stuck inside my head. 

I like being alone because I can be myself.

Then I’m myself and I hate being alone.

Life feels like I’m wearing a bad Halloween mask in January.